


The Five Points of the Pentagram

by Milliadoc_Brandybuck



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Abusive ex boyfriend, Alcohol, Alternate universe Supernatural, Angels, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cajun, College, Community: episodic-supernatural, Crossroads, Crying, Dean Hates Witches, Dean Winchester Being an Asshole, Dean Winchester Deserves to be Happy, Dean Winchester Hates Witches, Death, Demons, Developing Relationship, Domestic Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Sam Winchester, Early Dean, Early Sam, Empathy, Entire series, Episodes, F/F, F/M, Female Hunters, Feminism, Ghosts, Gods and Goddesses, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Heaven, Hell, Hellmouth, Horror, Impala, Inspired by Supernatural (TV), Light Swearing, Magic, Murder, Native American, Original Characters - Freeform, Paganism, Paranormal, Paranormal Investigators, Pentagram, Plot, Plot Driven, Poltergeist, Pre-Relationship, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, SPNFamily - Freeform, Salem, Sam Winchester is a nerd, Shadow Beings, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Supernatural - Freeform, Supernatural Lore, University, Voodoo, Well thought out plot, Well-Written, Wicca, Wiccan - Freeform, Witchcraft, Witches, alternative universe, casual sexual content, coven - Freeform, cursing, dead, dean winchester being domestic, grimoire, kickass soundtrack, kickass women, prose, relatable college students, relationships, sam being awkward, sam winchester at college, sam winchester being a nerd, the woman who could tame dean winchester, thought out, witches at college, women power
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 73,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21886411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milliadoc_Brandybuck/pseuds/Milliadoc_Brandybuck
Summary: When Sam Winchester decides to go back to college to finish his degree Dean doesn't know what to do with himself, until he meets a mysterious, confident young witch named Lory. Lory teaches the cold unfeeling Dean Winchester how to love, and he teaches her how to embrace the powers she has been given. Lory lives with two other women, Gwen and Meredith. Together the women form a coven and Sam and Dean become involved in the magick that surrounds them, as well as battling demons of their own."Saving people, hunting things, the family business."
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	1. Episode 1: New Kids on the Block (Pt. 1)

The silence of the main courtyard of the large college campus was only occasionally interrupted by a dog barking, trees rustling or the wishing of the winds. Not a person was in sight on the quiet night in early August, only the sounds of nature and the distant orange glow of the nearby town present, which was noticed and appreciated by janitor Jimmy Michaels, who moved as quietly across the campus as the breeze itself. Tired and feeling low, he had finished his 10-hour shift and was ready to leave for the night, though took his time so as to appreciate the peaceful atmosphere that he knew would be lost once the kids moved back in. He felt his mood lower deeper, however, as he realised that this was the only time when he felt truly at peace.

But amongst the apparent calm, shadows crept along the sides of buildings and through the whispering bushes. Slowly and steadily, they stalked the janitor, who was unaware of any break in the status quo. They waited, biding their time until he was cornered without even knowing it. Sliding along tiles, over walls and across the concrete of the path he was on now… slowly approaching and ready to pounce on this unsuspecting prey…

Jimmy stopped. He felt an odd chill brush past him, and suddenly felt quite a sickening feeling, as though he was being watched…

He turned around.

Nothing.

Taking a breath and turning his head back around, he tried to look past it, tried to convince himself it was just the wind and he was being paranoid. He continued on.

Immediately he was met with a searing fire of pain, staring in his chest and spreading fast through his torso, arms, legs, hands and feet, before creeping up his neck and infecting his mind, forcing him to emit a scream of anguish that struck terror in him like he had never felt. He pushed against the pain and pressed his hands onto his head with great difficulty, feeling like there was a great force of red hot ropes holding his wrists back. He continued to shriek in horror, hoping amongst his nightmarish thoughts that someone, anyone, would hear him and come to help him out of this hell that was killing him in the most hideous and cruel way possible.

But alone on the large campus so late at night, no one heard his screams in time.

***

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP-

Lori’s alarm screeched at her repeatedly on her bedside table. This would have been really annoying, had she not already been awake for at least two hours. Her hand finally reached out and switched it off, and she rolled onto her back to continue staring at the ceiling for a few more minutes.

Today was college move-in day for the freshman crowd. As a sophomore she had moved back into her dorm a week early, and had been spending almost every waking moment dreading the mass of new faces and difficult new classes and teachers she’d be up against. She knew all week, all summer even, she’d have to face it, especially the socialising. There was no way she could have avoided all human contact for four years. Make no mistake, she’d thought about how she might be able to enough times, but there was no way around it.

After a further five minutes of ceiling-staring, Lori closed her eyes, took one last breath, and rose up from her bed. She glanced over at the window where she could hear the noise of some new students bustling around with their parents and moving boxes. Lori let out a loud sigh and swung her legs out of bed, beginning the first few phases in facing the day.

***

On the farthest end of campus, a ‘67 Chevy Impala was slowly driving through the dorm house roads. Inside were two brothers, one looking around curiously, the other looking around sceptically. The sceptic-looking one let out a grunt, which caused his brother to roll his eyes.

“What now, Dean?”

Dean bit his tongue and made a face before answering. “Just don’t feel right here. Like I really don’t belong here.”

His brother let out an ironic chuckle. “Yeah, well, unless you’re about to tell me that you also put in an application to come here nine months ago then you’re not far off on that.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just- I’m sorry, okay? I just meant that you’re not the one who has to stay on campus all the time, only temporarily. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I wish that was true. I wouldn’t exactly call this job worry-free, Sammy.”

Sam didn’t reply, knowing full well that Dean was right and reminding him why they were really here, something that Sam had done his best to forget for the duration of the journey. Turning back to the various scenes of parents helping their kids unpack and move into their dorms, the sight suddenly struck a chord in Sam’s heart. Dean apparently felt the same.

“What dad would say if he saw us now…” Dean noted.

“Yeah, well, dad’s not here. We are.” Sam replied softly. Dean took it more as a comment of comfort than rudeness, and relaxed a little.

Suddenly hearing some more aggressive tones, Sam’s gaze fell upon a girl staring straight ahead with her arms crossed, standing at the bottom of her dorm house steps, facing who he assumed was her father, who was the source of the aggression and standing several feet away by his car. The interaction didn’t look dangerous, just like strict parenting, but even so that same chord was struck again and Sam felt sorry for the girl. He felt selfishly grateful when they were out of view; he and Dean didn’t need more reminders of their special family life.

***

Surely coming to college meant that she could escape her parents’ grasp? Did moving out not mean that she was her own person, and didn’t need to be told what and what not to do? Apparently her father had other ideas. He was standing on the farthest edge of the sidewalk from her, one hand already on the open car door, whilst she was stood by her dorm house steps. Both of them were so close to freedom, to not having to care about each other for a good few months, and yet he insisted on staying and giving her the talk of what he expected from her whilst other students and their families awkwardly walked past.

“-and we expect you to make the most of this… opportunity, you’ve given yourself. We won’t support you if you slip up, in any way, got it?”

“Yes dad, I understand.” She said flatly, trying not to sound too annoyed so as to avoid another lecture.

Her father didn’t even say anything to that. He just lowered the hand he had been pointing at her with and nodded, like he’d won. Always trying to make it a competition, she thought.

“Come on, Mike, let’s get going.”

Her father briefly looked away to the inside if the car where her mother couldn’t wait to leave. He turned back to her.

“Stay out of trouble.”

Unlike the other kids around her, it was more of a command than an affectionate little parental joke. She didn’t even respond, vocal or physical. She just watched him get in the car, and as soon as she heard the engine start, she turned around and walked up the steps into the house at last.

Breathing out a huge sigh of relief through her mouth, she was greeted by one of her three housemates, who didn’t even notice her entrance at first. She was clicking away on her flip phone, texting one of the thousand people she had already got the number of and added to her little group. She looked up at the sound of Gwen picking up one of her boxes, but immediately looked back down at her phone and continued typing before she even said a word.

“Oh, hey. We were gonna head down to the Courtyard if you wanted to come too, I guess.”

The lack of energy in her voice was outstanding. Gwen looked past it, however, and politely smiled.

“I think I’m just gonna stay here and unpack, actually, get used to my new room-”

“Yeah, they said you probably wouldn’t wanna come anyways, it’s cool.”

Taken aback by this bluntness, Gwen blinked and began busying herself by walking over to the stairs. As she started heading upstairs, another of her housemates bounded in and showed the first something so absolutely scandalous that they both burst into a fit of high-pitched giggles. Out of sight, and knowing they wouldn’t notice her anyway, Gwen rolled her eyes, leaving them to giggle away downstairs.

The room Gwen was staying in - the last in the house to be filled- was right at the end of the corridor, the sounds of hectic families (whomst, for once, she did not envy in their stress) filtering in through the open window at the end. Gwen couldn’t wait to step away from all the fussing around her, all the gossip and glamour of her new housemates, and her room offered her a wonderful excuse to be anti-social for at least a few hours.

Opening the door to her room was something that Gwen hadn’t expected to be so important to her until it actually happened. Her breath hitched for a second as this fresh start was displayed right in front of her eyes; blank walls, empty shelves and window sills, and barren notice boards for her to stick random reminders and study notes onto. Her college identity was a clean slate waiting to be shaped, and the room, stupid as it may sound, seemed to make her realise that for the first time.

She placed the box down on the floor and walked over to the window, taking in the room as she did so. She peeked outside to the ground below briefly,somehow even more crowded with move-ins than when she’d been down there, before looking back upwards and resting her elbows on the window sill. She placed her head on her arms as she took in the clear blue sky above her, barely a wisp of a cloud about.

Honestly, this might be really good. This might be my chance to take some control again, she thought hopefully. I think I can start to be myself again.

***

Lori came downstairs to see one of her new housemates, a girl called Meredith, amongst an abundance of cardboard boxes and plastic bags, looking lost.

“Need a hand?” Lori asked kindly.

Meredith turned to her and her face lit up. “Yeah, thanks.”

Lori picked up a few plastic bags.

“Ooh, those are for the kitchen!” Meredith said.

“Got it.” Lori replied walking over to place the bags on the kitchen counter. “You sure have a lot of stuff. Your grandma in there somewhere too?”

Meredith laughed, and Lori instantly felt happier hearing it. “I’m just terrible at getting rid of stuff. And my family are terrible at resisting giving me even more stuff. Pretty sure my mom gave me half the kitchen supplies from home, and my little sisters drew me about fifty thousand pictures of them in case I forgot what they look like whilst I’m here. Plus my dad gave me a bunch of his old clothes from when he was in college, y’know, ‘just in case’.”

Emerging from the kitchen, Lori grinned. “That’s cute. Sounds like they really care about you.”

Meredith smiled fondly, as if revisiting happy memories. “Yeah, we are pretty close, I suppose.” She said almost to herself.

It was sweet to see such love emitting from one person. Still smiling and feeling happy, Lori picked up one of the heavy boxes.

“Where to, chief?”

“Up to my room, first door on the left, thanks.”

Nodding, Lori walked over to the staircase. Catching onto a thought, Meredith turned around suddenly.

“You wanna check out the Eastern Courtyard?” suggested Meredith. “Apparently they’ve got it all: singers, performers, club sign-ups, free giveaways...”

“And have to socialise with random people before they have any alcohol in them? Yeah, no, I’m good thank you.” Replied Lori, but with a playful smile.

“Oh, come on,” grinned Meredith. “It might surprise you!”

Lori laughed, continuing to talk as she disappeared upstairs.

“The only thing that surprises me about college is the free parking.”

***

As Lori disappeared from sight, Meredith shook her head, both amused and concerned. She rifled through one of her own boxes, feeling an oddly-shaped object that she didn’t recognise. She pulled it out, revealing a small item wrapped up in blue-grey tissue paper. Unwrapping it carefully, Meredith let out a soft gasp when she recognised the sharp curves and dents of her family crest, sized down and with a thin chain around it. She didn’t remember packing it… Her grandfather must have slipped it in when she wasn’t looking.

Meredith was only vaguely aware of her family’s heritage and bloodline. She had only really been told about it in the last few months before her leaving for college, a little by her mother, briefly by her sister, but mostly by her grandpa, who loved to go into great detail when exploring the family history. But this time he did seem different about it, like he was warning her. All this talk about ‘protect yourself’ and ‘watch out for trouble’. Meredith had assumed he only meant to say this because she was moving out, and that he was just looking out for her as she moved into adulthood.

She set the tissue paper down and took the crest in her finger tips, moving them along the small gems and edges that ran through it. It felt… strange to her touch; she expected the metal to feel cold, but it felt warm as soon as she held it, her finger tips barely grazing it before she felt the heat radiating from it. It was almost welcoming, familiar.

But it was no less unnerving. In fact, it was probably more so.

She blinked and shook herself out of it, breaking her trance. She wrapped it back up in the tissue paper. Not yet. Not in freshman week. There are enough things to deal with right now without this too.

Turning away from the bag with the necklace in it, Meredith picked up a box containing her notebooks and began the trek up the stairs after Lori. She was determined to make this week count for her, and wanted to begin in a happy state of mind, as ever.

***

The door sharply shut behind Gwen as she stepped back out into the fresh air. For once she didn’t care how loud it was, she knew her housemates wouldn’t notice the noise being too engrossed in themselves and random Facebook profiles (“Oh my God, her hair is unreal!”) to have any awareness. Initially she hadn’t wanted to go outside, but her housemates had chosen to stay inside being loud and generally disruptive (much to her annoyance), forcing her to go outside anyway to get away from their constant laughing and shrieking.

Wrapping her oversized dark patterned cardigan around her and folding her arms into it, Gwen began walking along the sidewalk and away from the house, in desperate need of a semi-peaceful walk, which she could have now that the streets had cleared up and most students had properly moved in. There was only a distant cluster of voices coming from one of the nearby ‘freshman zones’, of which Gwen had no intention of going to. A walk around the quiet campus seemed much more inviting. Besides, she wasn’t alone, not really; there was a cool autumn breeze that danced around her feet and made her feel safe.

***

After an hour of seemingly endless nagging, Meredith had finally managed to convince Lori to leave their shared dorm house and come out into the world. Despite this small victory, it proved to be short-lived as they headed down to the Eastern Courtyard and Lori’s moaning and excuses filled the air.

“Seriously, I don’t have time for this.”

“Yes you do.”

“I really don’t, I have somewhere to be.”

“I’m sure your bed is very comfy but that’s not where we’re headed.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

Meredith, being fairly patient, said nothing, though had to refrain from rolling her eyes at Lori’s constant whining. As they rounded a corner, a figure coming from the opposite direction rounded it too. When they came into view, Meredith saw that it was a girl walking alone in a large patterned cardigan. She perked up; here was an opportunity. As the girl approached, Meredith broke into a warm and friendly smile.

“Hi!” She said brightly.

The girl’s head snapped up, as did Lori’s, and Lori thought she saw panic flash in the girl’s eyes for a moment. When she saw that Meredith and Lori really meant no harm, she averted her gaze and smiled awkwardly.

“Oh- uh, h-hey.”

And with that she continued walking, possibly quicker than she had been before. The girls watched her go for a moment before Meredith sighed.

“Oh well. Worth a shot, I guess not everyone wants to be friends.”

She continued on, Lori following behind, still begrudging.

“I’ll bet everyone’s just like her, not wanting to talk, just wanting to get on with things. A smart move if you ask me.”

“Aw c’mon, it’s gonna be great!” Meredith replied, ever the optimist, it seemed. “You might meet some new friends whilst we’re there!”

Meredith huffed. “Why would I need any more friends when you’re already soooo perfect?” She mocked with a fake smile.

“Ha ha,” Meredith grinned. “Flattery, fake or otherwise, won’t get you out of this, hun.”

Lori groaned, knowing, sadly, that she was right.

***

The harsh white lamplight hit the desk as Sam sat down and dumped his notebook onto the table, opening it up on a new page and immediately beginning to scribble out notes and to-dos. Dean stood behind him, admiring the room.

“Gotta say, not a bad place to crash for a few months.” He remarked. Sam ignored him, engrossed in his writing. Dean leaned against one of the walls and continued regardless, “Actually looks better than most of the motel rooms we stay in. Maybe I should try out this college thing, might get a decent night’s sleep out of it at least…”

He looked over at Sam’s reaction to the joke, but was met with his brother’s back leant over his desk. Dean sighed loudly.

“All right, something’s gotta be interesting if me saying I’m thinkin’ about signing up for college doesn’t get your attention. What’re you writing?”

“Class times for tomorrow,” Sam replied shortly.

Dean stared at him. “That’s it?” He looked disbelieving of this underwhelming answer. “God, you are such a geek.”

“I’m the one actually trying to get a degree here, Dean.” Sam replied without looking up again. “Some of us aren’t here just for the job.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m gonna go find somewhere to stay for the night. I’ll call you when I’ve got a place.”

“‘Kay.”

Shaking his head and smiling slightly, Dean pushed himself off of the wall and left Sam to his constant scribbling.

***

In the Courtyard, Meredith was walking around, talking to people, introducing herself, and generally lighting up the atmosphere. Behind her, Lori was dragging her feet, looking as bored and disinterested in the activities and sign-ups as she felt. Meredith tried to pretend not to notice, but she was starting to feel guilty for bringing Lori to a place where she clearly felt so uncomfortable.

“Hey, look!” She exclaimed, beckoning Lori over in an attempt to spark some enthusiasm. “They’re having a two for one deal at the local pizza house for all freshman!”

“Woww, better call the twelve-year-olds, they’d go wild for a deal like that!” Lori replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Meredith drooped slightly, lowering the flyer and placing it back on the table. Lori instantly felt guilt wash over her.

“Look, Meredith, I’m sorry, it’s just… this isn’t really my kind of thing. Especially since I’m not a freshman anymore. And please don’t take this the wrong way, but, you know I’m a mature student, and I just kind of feel like I’ve… outgrown this sort of deal. But don’t think that means that you shouldn’t do it yourself, or that I’m not happy, okay?”

Not being able to lift Lori’s social spirits made her feel like she’d failed somewhat, but Meredith gave a small smile all the same. “Okay. You go do your own thing.” She said encouragingly, tapping Lori’s arm briefly.

Grinning, Lori raised her eyebrows as if remembering something. “Speaking of my own thing,” she said. “I’ve gotta get to work. Have fun.”

She swished past a confused Meredith, who turned around and called after her, “You have a job?”

Lori looked back, still walking. “Yeah, I work at one of the bars in town.”

It was not possible for Meredith to look more taken aback than she did in that moment. She gaped at Lori as she continued to walk away, and when she finally opened her mouth she had to shout after her.

“You work in a bar?! One of the most social environments on the whole planet?”

“I said I didn’t like to socialise with people who didn’t have alcohol in them! Byee!” She called, the smirk in her voice very evident.

Meredith was left in the middle of the crowded courtyard, shaking her head in disbelief and holding back a smile.

***

Despite having not encountered anyone else for nearly half an hour, Gwen was still cringing at how awkward she had been with those two girls. They hadn’t looked threatening, they hadn’t seemed to be too giggly or gossipy like her delightful housemates had been; the one with silver hair had some pagan tattoos, so at least there was someone else she could relate to in that, and had looked really cool; the one with the bouncy, long curly brown hair was actually incredibly pretty. Perhaps that was what threw her off, they were both too cool and too attractive for her to not act like an awkward mess around them. Sometimes, Gwen really hated her stupid social ineptity to the point where she wondered if it was possible to burn it out of her soul. Permanently. Please.

As she walked along the empty streets, she finally noticed how the temperature had gone down and the light had begun to fade from the day. She also noticed how she was in a part of campus she didn’t know, which made her realise that she didn’t know where anything on campus was because the campus was huge and she’d never been able to remember where anything was on those silly little tours. So she was lost. And it was getting dark. Awesome.

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she thought rationally. She came from the North side, so all she had to do was walk back the way she… thought she came. That was her best option right now. Gwen placed her hands on her head and ran them through her hair, resting them on the back of her neck as she looked out over the dorm houses. Then she replaced her hands into her pockets, turned around and began to walk away.

Something suddenly didn’t feel quite right. Gwen could feel an odd change in the air that had nothing to do with the growing night. She looked around her, brows furrowed, and noticed that the trees seemed oddly still, even though she could feel a sharp breeze travelling over her skin. She sped up slightly, wrapping her cardigan tighter around herself and firmly crossing her arms.

From a silent hideout, the shadows watched her. The temptation to follow was strong… but they could not strike. Not yet.

But soon.

***

Perhaps Lori had been right. Meredith was starting to become tired of the number of people who had approached her as a prank or with dumb joke questions, or asking if classes started tomorrow - on a Saturday. She decided to head back to her dorm house and muster up something at least edible. Thanking the person who handed her the umpteenth flyer of the afternoon, she turned and began walking back in the direction of the dorm.

As she approached the centre, a scream broke out and echoed throughout the campus. Disturbed but concerned, Meredith began running towards the source of the scream, which sounded like it came from the Eastern Courtyard. Other students were running through the arch ways leading to it already, having clearly heard the horrible sound as well. She reached the arch way and rushed to where a crowd had gathered. Pushing through slightly, she made it to the inner edge, and almost fell backwards in shock.

On the stone ground was a young girl’s body, blood pouring out of her ears, eyes and nose, white as a sheet and veins popping on her neck and face. Several staff members were attempting to block her from view and contacting the emergency services. Students surrounding the scene were whispering, some even screeching themselves in shock, some crying. Meredith could only watch in terror. She couldn’t look away. But she felt sick and empty at the sight.

Someone suddenly came up behind her, calling her name.

“Meredith! Meredith, are you okay, what’s going-”

Lori stopped as soon as she saw the body too. She let out a deep, terrified breath.

“Oh God…” She whispered in a low voice.

***

She had managed to get lost and ended up in the one place she never wanted to be in the first place; the Eastern Courtyard. But as Gwen approached, that awful feeling crept up on her again, and almost instantly after she heard a horrid scream. Fearing the worst, but praying like mad that it wasn’t anything to do with the changing winds, she ran to the source. The sight she met was awful, even worse than she could have possibly imagined. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from the girl’s face, covered in bold blue and purple veins and completely sheet-white. And all the blood… The blood was deep crimson and in a giant circle around the body, spread out so far that it was a shock that the human body could hold so much of it. Gwen felt a pang of fear at the thought that this feeling and this event… was there a connection…?

Glancing over the rest of the crowd, Gwen spotted the two girls from before opposite her. The girl with the curly hair was in a state of pure shock, whilst the silver girl, who still looked horrified, put an arm around her for comfort. A sudden burst of energy emitted from the two of them that made Gwen blink suddenly and take a sharp breath. She stared at them, stunned and confused, before the silver-haired one put an arm around the other and led her away from the crowd and out of sight. Then, to her right, Gwen sensed an even stronger energy, and her head whipped in its direction. Her sight set on a tall guy with brown hair, who did not look as shocked as the other students but more… panicked. He quickly glanced around the gathering circle of students and backed out of the crowd, as two security guards stepped up to move the students back and away from the scene. A couple of them pushed on Gwen’s side too, forcing her to break her gaze on the guy, but she quickly turned and pushed herself through the crowd to get a look at the guy.

But when she emerged, he had vanished. She looked around, circling on the spot whilst students brushed past her, but he had gone. His energy was lost, and Gwen breathed. She was left confused and almost breathless at the events that had unfolded.

Who the hell were all these people?

***

Hiding around a dark corner out of sight, Sam had already pulled out his cell phone and had typed Dean’s number before he could even think about anything else. He waited impatiently, and when Dean picked up on the fifth ring, he went straight into it.

“It got someone. Someone else. It’s started moving again.”


	2. Episode 1: New Kids on the Block (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam meets Gwen and Dean meets Lory, setting into motion a chain of events that is beyond their control.

Dean slammed into Sam’s room, a takeout bag in his hand. Sam was laid on his stomach on the bed, books open in front of him, headphones in. He was bobbing his head to the music. Dean looked at him, raising an eyebrow.   
“Dude,” He said, reaching out an flicking a headphone out of Sam’s ear. Sam reacted accordingly. “You’ve not even started classes yet. C’mon.” Dean shut the book Sam was reading and took a seat on his spinning desk chair, twirling it around a few times for good measure.  
“What do you want, Dean?” Sam asked, stopping the music and pushing himself up to sit on the bed, defeated. He looked skeptically at his supposed big brother.  
“I know we’re here for you to study, but also we have a job to do.” Dean said, stopping the chair spinning. “Have you got any further with whatever the hell this demon is?”  
“If it’s a demon.” Sam said, sighing and pulling the large dusty tome out from under his bed.   
“What d’you mean ‘if it’s a demon’?” Dean asked, “‘Course it’s a demon. What else do you know that does that to its victims?”  
“A wild animal?”  
“In this part of good ole’ Delaware? Give me a break.” Dean said. “Do you have an idea of what it might be?”   
Sam sighed and obligingly opened the book. “Some form of shadow demon, I think.” He said. “See, I have been working.” He turned the book round to show Dean an image. Dean took the book and let out an opinionated whistle.  
“Ugly mofo,” He said. “How do we kill it? Normal way?”   
“It’s too powerful. There’s only rumours on that part.” Sam said, taking the book back and flicking through the pages. “Lore’s a bit thin.”   
“Well, what have we go to go on?”   
“I think it’s gonna take a special weapon.” Sam said, frowning. He raised an eyebrow at Dean, who had pulled a hamburger out of his bag and started eating it. “Glad to see you’re concentrating on the job too.” He said, opening up his laptop.   
“I’m hungry.” Dean shrugged, his mouth full.   
Beautiful, Sam thought.   
“Clearly.” Sam reached over and picked up a napkin from the food bag, clicking his pen and beginning to draw a quick sketch from the page open on his laptop. “I’ve read about this Native American knife that might be able to do the job.”   
“Native American?” Dean asked through masticated cow. “Where are we gonna find that?”   
“I don’t know,” Sam said, ignoring his brother’s eating habits, “But I think it looks like this.” He held up the sketch on the napkin. “Maybe you could go and see the Professor of Paranormal Science?”   
“Paranormal Science?”   
Sam nodded. Dean stopped chewing. “Wait, that’s an actual thing?” He said.  
“You sound surprised.” Sam held the napkin out for Dean to take.  
“Skeptical, more like.” Dean said, taking it. “Alright. Where can I find this Professor?”  
“You’re gonna have to find that bit out, Dean.” Sam said, laying back onto his stomach and opening his book, “I can’t do all the work.”   
Dean finished his burger and glared at his little brother, the napkin held in his hand. Sam ignored him. Dean sighed and got to his feet, heading to the door and wrenching it open.   
“Fine,” He said. “Bitch.”   
“Jerk.” Sam said, putting his headphones back in as Dean left the room. 

***

Students filed into the lecture theatre with a low hum, travelling in packs of two or three with their heads lowered. There was an air of sadness hanging over the college this morning; everyone had heard about what had happened to the poor girl in the Eastern Courtyard, and many people from Meredith’s class, it seemed, had actually witnessed the horrific scene. As she looked around at her peers, she could see that many people were pale or a little shaky, and some were being spoken to or comforted by other students in quiet corners of the room. Meredith felt for them. She herself had felt quite shaken by the events of Friday afternoon, and was feeling more uncomfortable as more students entered the hall.

She had felt very strange over the whole weekend. She had called her mother in the evening, who had done her best to comfort her, but it was her step-father who had been the better help. She had actually hoped to talk to him more; he was a forensic scientist and had seen enough gruesome imagery to know how to cope with this kind of thing. He had told her to surround herself with white light, to close her eyes and visualise this white light, and to avoid unexpected physical contact with people she wasn’t close to. Meredith found this to be odd advice, not understanding how it would help her cope with trauma, but brushed it off and tried these coping methods out wherever she could over the weekend. Despite her quick closeness to Lory, she had only known her for two days, and had asked her not to touch her until Meredith gave her consent. Lory had agreed, and had given Meredith an odd look, but again, Meredith had brushed it off as concern.

There was still a five minute gap until her lecture actually began, so Meredith closed her eyes and tried to visualise white light again. She furrowed her brow; she was having more difficulty with it than she had over the weekend. When the professor entered the room, she could only vaguely hear what she was saying.

“Good morning, class. I didn’t want to have to start our first lecture together like this, but in light of recent events, I understand that many of you who experienced it first hand are very upset… even traumatised by what happened. Me and the rest of the faculty want you to know that if you want to talk, or just need a place to be quiet for a moment, our offices are always welcome-”

Suddenly hit with urge to leave the room, Meredith stood up. At the same time a student near the front also stood to leave, the stress becoming too much for them. As soon as Meredith stood, however, nausea hit her all at once, and the room spun and her vision went black.

***

Dean double checked the campus map in his hand, concluding he was in the right place as he read the name etched on the door in front of him: “Prof. C. Crevaho. Paranormal Science.”  
“I can’t believe that’s an actual specialism.” Dean muttered to himself skeptically, before glancing over his shoulder and knocking on the wood.   
Almost instantly a kind, though elderly, voice from within called, “Come in.”   
Dean obliged, turning the handle and letting himself in. The room was small and cluttered, with a large dark oak desk taking up the centre and an enormous glass fronted cabinet taking up the expanse of one wall. Dean glanced at the cabinet, noting the weird and ancient objects inside in passing. Stacks of books were on every surface around the room, covering the desk and overflowing from a bookshelf, old and dusty tomes with ancient titles. The energy they gave off made Dean’s spine shiver. Behind the desk sat an old man with wire spectacles on his nose, wiry grey hair and a tweed jacket straight out of the 80s. He seemed to be translating a page from one of the books, the inkpen in his hand poised over his notes as he looked up at Dean. Realising that he didn’t recognise his visitor, he put down the pen, closed the book and took the glasses off his nose.   
“Can I help you?” He asked, frowning. Dean stopped looking at the cabinet that continuously drew his gaze and broke into a smile, holding out his right hand for the Professor to shake whilst fumbling in his jacket for his fake student ID.   
“Yes, sorry,” Dean said, as the Professor rose to accept the handshake. “My name is Malcolm Nichols,” He held up the fake ID. “I was visiting my brother on campus and wondered if I could have a word with you about some of your studies. I’m a bit of a paranormal nut, you see, and you’re pretty legendary.” His words span from his mouth as easily as silk, well practiced.   
The Professor shook his hand and nodded.   
“Of course, Malcolm, how nice to meet you.” He gestured at empty chair in front of the desk. “My name is Professor Charles Crevaho, though I suppose you know that.” Crevaho said. Dean smiled and took the chair being offered. Crevaho sat back down opposite him. “What exactly is it you’re wanting a word on, Malcolm?”   
“Well,” Dean said, pulling out the folded napkin Sam had drawn the hasty sketch of the artefact on. “Do you recognise this?” He asked, pushing it across the desk to the Professor. Crevaho slipped his glasses back onto his nose and squinted at the sketch. “That looks like a ktaki.” Crevaho concluded, after a long while, offering the sketch back to Dean.   
“A ktaki?” Dean asked, taking it.   
“A special knife belonging to the Lenape tribe.” Professor Crevaho rose from his chair and began to search his bookshelf. “It was created to combat shadow creatures that plagued the tribe with disease, pestilence and death.”   
“Why is it always Native American?” Dean muttered to himself as he watched Crevaho pull a small pocket-sized, leather-bound book from the shelf. He dusted it off and flicked it open, thumbing through the pages. He stopped at a diagram and held it out to Dean, who took the book gingerly. It was cold to the touch and seemed to be wrapped in no style of leather he had ever worn. The writing was written in a language he didn’t understand, but the drawing matched that Sam had given him. “Do you know where it is?” Dean asked.   
“I don’t really know much about it, to be honest with you, Malcolm.” Crevaho lowered himself into his chair again and lacing his fingers together. Dean’s heart sank.   
“Do you know anyone who would?” Dean asked, trying to hide the defeat and annoyance in his voice.   
Crevaho opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door opening. Dean turned around in his chair to look upon the intruder, and he found himself completely losing his train of thought. The woman who had just invited herself rudely into the office was young, with long silver hair curling down her shoulders and secured in part at the back with a black velvet bow. She was wearing a black off-shoulder blouse and dog-toothed patterned high-waisted trousers. Her cat-eye make-up was flawless and she had curves in all the right places. Dean was awestruck.   
“Ah, Lory.” Professor Crevaho said, as the girl closed the door behind her. “Good timing.”   
“Sorry Professor,” Lory trilled, her red lipsticked smile lighting up her face. “I didn’t know you had company.” She placed a takeaway coffee down on the desk in front of Crevaho.   
“Don’t worry about it,” Crevaho said, gratefully accepting the coffee. “Malcolm, this is my best student and somewhat of an assistant to me, makes the best coffee on campus, Lory Harris. Lory, this is Malcolm Nichols. He’s visiting his brother on campus and had some questions about a ktaki. Actually, Malcolm, this is probably the best thing to have happened. Lory majors in Para-Archeology.”   
“A ktaki?” Lory repeated, looking Dean up and down. Reclaiming his senses, he gave her his characteristic dimpled smile. She returned his smile briefly, before crossing her arms and perching on the desk in front of him. “What about it?”   
“I’ve heard stories.” Dean replied, meeting her eyes. They were deep auburn and seemed to glow slightly.   
“Stories?” Lory asked.   
“Yeah. I’d sure love to see one if you know where to find one?” Dean was definitely on the charm offensive, and she seemed to be buying it.   
“There is only one in existence.” Lory replied. Dean’s smile faded, disappointed. “Lucky for you,” Lory continued, and Dean dared hope, “I know where it is.” Dean’s smile returned.   
“Where?” He asked, sitting up in his chair.   
“I can take you if you like?” Lory offered, shrugging. “I’m not doing anything this afternoon.”   
“Sounds like a plan.” Dean replied before he could stop himself. His heart was hammering under his shirt as he looked at her. Was that a silver pentagram on her necklace?   
“You got wheels?” Lory asked. Dean nodded. “I’ll meet you by the fountain in an hour.” Lory continued, hopping off the desk and headed for the door. Dean could smell her perfume as she passed him. “See you later, Professor.”   
“Bye Lory.” Professor Crevaho called, as Lory disappeared out of the door. Dean watched her go with a peculiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I hope that you find what you’re looking for, Malcolm.” Professor Crevaho said, holding out the small book. “Feel free to borrow this if it helps.”   
Dean took the book and got to his feet.   
“Thank you, Professor, and thank you for your time.” He said, smiling at the Professor before turning and following Lory out of the room. Standing in the corridor as the door clicked closed behind him, he clutched the book and tried to make sense of the feelings that had presented themselves along with Lory Harris. His thought process was broken by his phone ringing.

***

Whichever rapidly spinning room she was in was starting to slow down by the time Meredith came to. She woke up in her dorm room, lying on her bed with the covers underneath her, not knowing or even slightly remembering how she got there. Her back was hot and sweaty, and when she sat up - slowly - the shirt she was wearing stuck to her spine, almost damp through. She didn’t feel as nauseous as she had before, and her head ached more as an aftermath of the pain she’d been in before than still unbearable. At least she could get her body up at all without feeling like she was going to drop through the floor straight down into nothingness.

Tentatively, she turned her body around and lowered her feet onto the ground, breathing out slowly through her mouth. She tried to gather her thoughts once she felt calm enough. What is going on? She thought. I’ve never reacted this badly to something so… graphic, before…

This was less concerning than it sounded; Meredith’s step-father worked in forensics in New York and often had to deal with gruesome bodies like the recent death. He was also incredibly forgetful, which resulted in Meredith having to come down to the morgue frequently to bring him whatever it was he had left at home. She’d seen plenty of unpleasant imagery whilst down there - so why did this get to her so horribly and painfully?

Believing she could make it downstairs to get some water, Meredith pushed herself off of the bed and walked to the door (which seemed miles away) and began to make the trek along the hall towards the treacherous stairs. I feel like a freaking zombie, she thought, scowling slightly. She was still in the midst of taking small steps towards the stairs when she heard the front door open.

“Hey, who’s home?” She asked. Her voice came out croaky and off, taking her by surprise.

“Lory! Is that you, Meredith?” Lory called from below.

“Yeah, I’m just coming down, hold on-”

“No, I’ll come up, you stay there.” Lory said quickly. “I heard you passed out in your class this morning… Do you want some water or anything?”

“Actually, water would be great, thank you.”

Meredith heard Lory’s footsteps going into the kitchen and the sound of a glass clinking, followed by the tap running. All the while she leant against the wall, breathing out through her mouth again. Apparently she needed to regain her strength. Probably for the best that Lory came in when she did and stopped her from collapsing down the stairs.

“So, you feeling better? Must be if you’re up and walking, right?” Lory’s voice echoed from the kitchen.

“Not exactly,” Meredith replied. “It’s taken me ten minutes to get from my bed to the middle of the hallway. But I’m getting there, I guess.”

Lory’s footsteps returned and became increasingly more audible. “That sucks. Still, at least it’s something.” She started climbing the stairs and soon came into view. “Here.” She reached Meredith and handed her the water.

“Thank you,” Meredith replied, accepting it and taking a grateful sip.

As she drank slowly, Lory leant against the wall, facing her with a look of concern.

“What do you think brought this on?” She asked, folding her arms.

Meredith gulped and averted her gaze, looking to the floor instead. “I don’t know what happened. I was in the class, and the teacher mentioned the ‘event’ from yesterday and how we could talk to someone if we really needed to. And my thoughts just got stuck on the image of that poor, poor girl and… i just got overwhelmed with just about every PTSD symptom you could think of, but like, amped up to a thousand. And then I stood up to leave at the same time as this other student, and I passed out. I guess someone carried me back here and put me in my room.”

She finished to take a breath, and raised her eyes to look at Lory, who was staring at her with intense worry on her face. Meredith didn’t know what else to say, she drank some more water, which seemed to be helping her throat a lot.

“Does… have you had PTSD before? If you don’t mind me asking?” She heard Lory ask quietly.

Without looking up, Meredith shook her head. “No, definitely not. I’ve never had an ounce of any of these feelings before, letalone in reaction to a-a body. I mean my step-dad works in forensics, for pete’s sake.”  
At this Lory frowned, the mystery becoming more mysterious by the second. Meredith could feel worry washing over her suddenly.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me…” she whispered, eyes watering and voice thick.

Lory straightened up and took a step forwards. “Look, don’t worry. We’ll work out what’s happening to you. We will. In the meantime, you need to rest and heal up before we can work anything else out. Do you want me to stay with you this afternoon?”

Meredith raised her head at that, and shook it rapidly. “No, no, it’s fine! I don’t want you to have to stay behind and babysit me. I’m sure I’ll be ok, just gotta rest, I think.”

Lory looked unconvinced, but didn’t want to push it and stress Meredith out even more.

“Okay. I’ll help you back to your room at least.”

Meredith smiled. She weakly pushed herself off the wall and turned to begin the walk back to her room, holding Lory’s arm.

“I’m going out this afternoon to meet someone, nothing too important. If anything happens, you can call me. Okay? Give me your phone, I’ll put my number in.” Lory said, taking Meredith’s phone from her and doing just that. 

“Okay.” Meredith replied, believing that she could genuinely talk to her if she wanted to.

***

Somewhere distantly a clock chimed four PM. Dean and Sam perched on the edge of the large marble fountain in the middle of South common. Sam was talking non-stop about his findings in the library, but Dean, hunkered down in his jacket, was finding it hard to concentrate. He glanced at his watch and looked both ways down the pathways into the crowded social area.   
“Dean?” Sam asked, his voice breaking Dean’s distraction.   
“Yeah?” Dean answered, a bit too quickly.   
“What’s going on with you?” Sam asked.   
“Nothing,” Dean replied, “She’s late, is all.” Sam raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips in amusement.  
“Who is this girl?” Sam asked.   
“Lory Harris.” Dean continued.   
“I mean, why is she important?”   
“Oh,” Dean replied, “She’s a specialist in Para-archeology.”   
“That’s a thing?” Sam asked, unable to keep the entirety of the skepticism out of his voice. “What next? Demon-law?”   
“The moment they learn how to legally defend themselves, we’re screwed.” Dean replied, pushing himself off the wall as he saw a recognisable shape heading towards them. Lory was wearing a black double-breasted coat with white faux-fur lining the collar, and had pulled her long hair up into a ponytail. She held a hand up in acknowledgement as she negotiated the throngs of students. Sam stood up obligingly too, determined to get a good look at this mysterious Para-archeologist. Safe to say, she was not what he had been expecting.   
“Hey, Malcolm.” Lory trilled as she reached them, her hands deep in her pockets. Sam side-eyed Dean to catch his reaction, and also partly to tease him for choosing ‘Malcolm’ as a nom-de-plume. “Sorry I’m late. We good to go?” She glanced up at Sam and smiled. “Sorry,” She said, holding out a hand to him. Sam noticed Lory had a triquetra tattooed on her wrist. “I’m Lory.”  
“Sam.” Sam replied, shaking the offered hand. Dean was frowning at Lory, trying to work out why his heart was hammering so hard in her presence.   
“You the brother?”   
“Yeah. Nice to meet you. Para-archeology, huh? What’s that like?” Sam retracted his hand. His skin was tingling with an unexplainable buzzing and he frowned.   
“Well, it’s no Indiana Jones. You settling in okay? You’re new here, right?” Lory asked, pulling her bag back up her shoulder casually, seemingly oblivious to the tingling and to the fact Dean was still frowning at her and not really taking in a word she was saying.   
“It’s alright. Decent classes, decent people.” Sam rubbed his hand on his jeans, trying to rid it of the tingling.  
“Decent bars?”  
“I’m not really into that, that’s more his gig.” Sam nodded at Dean and slipped his hand in his pocket, the tingling fading. “He can definitely hold his liquor.” Lory glanced at Dean, who was still frowning at her.   
“You ready to go?” Lory asked. Dean shook his head.   
“Yeah.” He said, shrugging.   
“Where’s the car?”   
“Bay G.”   
“Cool.” Lory put her hands back in her pockets and walked past Dean in the direction of the car-park. “Catch you later, Sam?”   
Sam nodded. “Yeah, sure. You two have fun.”   
Dean winked at his brother and followed after Lory along the path. 

***

As Dean went to follow the girl called Lory, he turned around quickly and winked at Sam, who rolled his eyes in response. Adjusting the strap of his bag, he turned around and entered the library to return some of the less helpful books he had borrowed to research their current case (and some early reading he had chosen to do for class - but he didn’t dare tell Dean that for obvious reasons). He nodded to the receptionist as he walked past and trotted up the stairs to the third floor, passing a few hurried-looking students on the way. He glanced briefly into the entrances of the first, second, and third floors before finally reaching the fourth floor. Upon entering it was comparatively more empty than the previous floors, being dedicated mostly to supernatural lore and folk tales. Not exactly a college student’s favourite subject.

Assuming he was the only person in the giant room, Sam casually walked over to the returns trolley and carefully placed his books neatly on top of various other loans that had been haphazardly and poorly stacked and stuffed together. Double checking they all had the return slips slotted into them, he then made his way back over to the shelf he had gotten the books from in the first place to look for more information, as he had reached his loan limit on his last visit. Walking along the shelf slowly, examining each title carefully, Sam perked up when he found a book that might be useful, pulling it out of its place and opening it up to the index to inspect it. His eyes ran along the chapter titles, but to no avail; everything was just made-up crap he’d seen before written by someone who just wanted attention and who probably knew nothing about the subject.

Sighing through his nose, he closed the book and replaced it. As he did so, he heard a sniff, and his head instinctively snapped to the direction it had come from. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, as along the tall shelves and in the section next to his, separated by a walkway, was a girl whose head was bent low, a large book resting steadily in her hands. She was completely engrossed in whatever she was reading. Now that he had noticed her properly, Sam had begun to take in her appearance; she had soft brown hair that went just past her shoulders, part of the front tied back out of her face, with bangs that reached her eyebrows; she was wearing an oversized patterned green sweater, with huge sleeves that engulfed her small hands, and some loose-fitting medium blue denim mom jeans that were cuffed at the bottom; she had on a pair of Dr Martens black boots that looked a little scuffed and tattered, with scratch marks on them like those of twigs or bushes. From this far away, at least, she looked sweet. Sam squinted at the sign over the section she was reading in. ‘Religion/PAG’. Could that mean paganism?

Suddenly the girl looked up at the shelf in front of her, and she briefly glanced to the side. As soon as she caught sight of Sam, she let out a sharp gasp and quickly closed the book she was holding with a snap. Sam felt guilt wash over him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry! I-I didn’t mean to-”

“No no, it’s fine,” the girl breathed, a hand on her chest as she calmed her breathing.

“-to scare you-”

“-it’s fine, I just-”

“-a-and I wasn’t staring in a creepy way-”

“-really, don’t worry, I was just being… stupid.”

Now that they had stopped talking over each other, they made eye contact, and both quickly looked away. Sam glanced up at her again. Her cheeks were a little coloured from embarrassment, but she was also smiling slightly, and had a small oval face and very soft blue eyes. She was more than just sweet; she was cute, and seemed harmless. Sam gave a small smile of apology and what he hoped was encouragement. “I didn’t think anyone else was in here, sorry.”

“Yeah, no. Me neither. Obviously.” The girl replied.

Sam chuckled slightly at that, and noted to himself that she had a British accent. The girl regained some of her lost confidence and decided to talk to him.

“What are you in here for?” She asked.

Briefly, Sam panicked. “Uuuhh, just some... “ he patted the books on the shelf awkwardly, “light reading, y’know.”

The girl nodded slowly, not looking entirely convinced.

What kind of lame excuse was that? He decided to turn the tables to distract her. “How ‘bout you? What are you reading over there?”

It was her turn to panic, though she seemed to be less apt at hiding it than Sam. “Oh, just um… stuff.”

Holding back a smirk, Sam replied, “Stuff?”

Looking like she didn’t even believe herself, the girl replied, “Yeah. Just, y’know…” She averted her gaze and looked around at the books surrounding her. “Just stuff.”

She looked back up at him, lips pursed. Sam had to take a minute, taken aback by how terrible her answer was.

“You know… I can see the section title at the end of the shelf.”

The girl’s face fell as she realised what his words meant. She closed her eyes and sighed defeatedly.

“Right. Of course it does.”

“So… paganism, huh?” Sam asked.

Looking at him again, with such an intensity that Sam was slightly taken aback. She sighed again through her nose, raising her arms and letting them drop to her sides.

“Yep, paganism. Cos I’m weird, I guess.”

Sam shook his head quickly. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean- it’s not weird, not at all.”

The girl’s eyes softened. “You… you’re serious?”

“Yeah.” The boy replied. Gaining some confidence, he took a few steps forwards. “I know it’s not all that voodoo, creepy dark magick stuff people always assume it is. At least not when it’s done properly.”

Gwen was slightly stunned for a moment. She genuinely hadn’t expected this guy to understand that all those dumb pagan stereotypes were a load of crap, and was especially pleased he had differentiated between dark magick and white magick. Then again, she reminded herself, she had gotten that vibe off of him on Friday…

Realising she hadn’t spoken in a while and had just been staring at the boy, Gwen quickly spoke and stammered in the process.

“I-uh-I-I just didn’t expect… anyone to not be freaked out when I even mention the word.”

“Well, I am looking in the supernatural lore section, I would’ve expected you to be more freaked out by me.” The boy pointed out, smiling kindly.

Gwen couldn’t help but also smile widely, looking away as she did so and tucking an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear out of habit. His light tone gave her the sudden courage to do something she had struggled with so far on campus.

“I’m Gwen,” she told him, looking up as she did so. She waited for his reaction.

He smiled warmly. “I’m Sam.”

She returned his smile and raised her hand briefly in greeting, relieved. “Hi.” She said shyly and quietly.

“Hi.” He replied, just as softly.

They stood for a moment in silence that was almost comfortable.

Almost.

Gwen’s awkwardness sensors kicked in again and she cleared her throat.

“So, um, what lore are you looking at specifically?”

Taken aback, Sam stammered, “Oh, just, uuh, some stuff about, uh, shadow creatures.”

Gwen smiled, ever-so-slightly teasingly. “Just stuff?”

Getting her tease, Sam closed his eyes and chuckled. “Yeah, I guess. I’m trying to look into any local tribes that might have something to do with it. Just expLoryng the area.”

“Sure.” Gwen nodded, trying to look like she believed him more than she did. “Um, if you want stuff on the town’s history, there’s a section on the first floor dedicated to local and natural history and things like that. I was there… earlier.”

Sam blinked at this sudden, and helpful, knowledge. “Thanks, I’ll, uh, I’ll check it out.”

Gwen nodded. “No problem.”

Another awkward moment ensued. They caught each other’s eye again, and looked away laughing awkwardly. Again.

“Ok.” Sam breathed out.

“Cool.” Gwen nodded.

They looked back up at each other again, holding each other’s gaze a little better this time. Sam smiled, and Gwen couldn’t stop herself from smiling back, wider than she intended.

“I’ll see ya around, Gwen,” Sam said.

“Yeah, see ya.” Gwen replied.

Giving her one last awkward smile before turning his head away and blinking slightly, Sam disappeared behind the bookshelf and out of sight. Gwen puffed out a long breath through her mouth and closed her eyes for a moment. She opened them and shook her head.

At least I know that he’s got some supernatural knowledge now, she thought. But for the love of God, why did he have to be cute?

***

“Did I mention it’s a sweet ride?” Lory asked, as she pocketed the all-access museum pass she had just shown the security guard. Dean followed behind her, looking around the white walls and glass cases of the Iroquis museum. He matched her pace and shrugged. Dean felt slightly uneasy - he hated museums.  
“She does alright.” He said.   
“She?” Lory teased, her eyes glistening.  
“I mean… it.”   
“Sure.” Lory replied as she led the way expertly down corridors and halls of history. “That would explain why you don’t have a girlfriend.”   
“What makes you think I don’t have a girlfriend?” Dean demanded quickly. Lory smirked at him, a glisten in her eye.   
“I do now.” She replied. Dean glared at her - slippery minx.   
Before Dean could respond, Lory had continued. “It’s nice of you to be visiting your brother like this.”   
“I’m like that.” Dean said. “Call me Mister Nice-guy.”  
“I’l stick to Malcoln, thanks.” Lory’s eyes sparkled, then her smile faltered and she sucked her teeth for a moment as she looked at him, “Funny thing, though.” Lory said, stopping in her tracks. Dean, a little in front of her, turned to face her. “Malcolm isn’t your name, is it?” She smiled knowingly as a flash of worry spread across Dean’s face. “So, what's your real name, Malcolm?” She folded her arms.   
Dean blinked at her. “I’ll tell you my real name if you tell me yours.”   
Dean raised an eyebrow.   
“Your real name?” He repeated.   
“Yeah.”   
“Alright, I’ll bite.” Dean replied, folding his arms to mirror her. “Malcolm isn’t my name. It’s Dean. Dean Winchester.” He held out a hand for her to shake. She looked at it, then him, then held out hers to complete the gesture.   
“Like the rifle?”  
“I guess.”  
“Nice to meet you Dean.” She closed her fingers around his. It was almost as if an electromagnetic pulse ran up his arm at her touch. She retracted her fingers and began to carry on down the corridor. Dean hurried after her.   
“Hey,” He said authoritatively, “What about you? A deal’s a deal.”   
“Oh,” Lory smiled at him, “My name is Mallory. Mallory Rebecca Harris.” She winked at him.   
“What? That’s just the longer version of your everyday name.”   
“Yep. I can’t help it if people just call me Lory. It’s still another name.” She giggled and turned right into a room off the corridor. Dean, bewildered, followed her, unsure of how she had this power over him. She led him through a room filled with shrunken skulls and to a black door in the wall. She used her special VIP ID card to beep open the room and held it for Dean to enter before her. He did as he was bid, stepping into a clinical white corridor lined with old exhibition posters. Lory shut the door behind them and gestured for him to enter an open archway to the left. A plaque next to the door read ‘ARTEFACT ROOM’. Lory led the way into it and stopped by a large glass case displaying all manner of Native American artefacts - tomahawks, spears, talismans, and knives. Lory opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out two pairs of vinyl gloves. Holding one pair out to Dean, she then pulled the other pair onto her own hands.   
“Don’t let it touch your skin.” Lory warned, opening the glass case carefully and pulling out one of the knives. It was about the size of a carving knife, with a serrated edge and a roughly hewn wooden handle engraved with symbols and hung with beads on a leather thong. The edge of the blade was blackened with what Dean assumed to be demon blood.   
“What happens if it touches my skin?” Dean asked, as Lory held the knife out to him.   
“You don’t want to find out.” Lory replied, her eyes twinkling. Dean held her eye-contact for a few minutes before raising the blade so that he could examine every millimetre of it. Lory watched him, leaning against the desk with her arms folded.   
“What do you want to know about the ktaki for again?” Lory asked.   
“Hmm?” Dean remarked, momentarily lost in thought as he admired the blade. “Oh,” He pulled a face, “Curiosity.” He gave her his best convincing expression which normally would have people eating out of the palm of his hand. Lory, however, didn’t buy it for a second. She breathed in heavily and rearranged her arms.   
“Curiosity, huh?” Lory said, “Alright.”   
There was a pause as she looked at him, then down at her nails as he looked at her, then back at the knife.   
“Where are you from anyway?” Lory asked, “That accents not Delaware.”   
“Definitely not,” Dean said, looking back at her, “Kansas.”   
Lory nodded, “Kansas? Nice place.”   
“You been?”   
“Nah, not really. I travelled for a little while but not long enough to remember anywhere really.”  
“What brought you to Delaware?”   
“It’s the only college on the East coast to do para-archeology.” Lory replied, shrugging.   
“Where are you from?” Dean asked, meeting her gaze.   
She seemed to hesitate before replying, and when she did her reply was a bit too breezy. “Massachusetts,” She said, pausing before continuing, a flicker of pain running over her face. Dean noticed. “Lincoln.”   
“Lincoln?” Dean repeated. “Can’t say I’ve been there. What’s it like.”   
Lory paused, “Quaint. Old town values, you know.” She replied. For the first time Dean noticed a lull in her confident facade. However, as quickly as it had dropped, the facade was back as she pushed herself off the desk. “So, you got any questions?” She gestured at the knife.   
“Er, no, not at the moment.” Dean replied, carefully placing the blade back into the cabinet and making a mental note to swipe her access card at some point. He shut the glass door and turned to her. “Thanks though. For letting me see it.”   
“No problem,” Lory replied, “It’s not often I get to do something right.”   
“The Professor seems to like you?”   
“I’m a good student, and I’m like an eighth Native American so I find this stuff fascinating. I’m just not so great with anything else. Socialising being one of them.”   
“You seem to be doing pretty well with me?” Dean said, before he could stop himself.   
“Well, sure. We have something in common.”   
“We do?” Dean asked, his heart suddenly in his throat.  
“A love for Native American demon hunting.” Lory said, laughing. Dean frowned for a split second before nervously laughing along with her. She removed her gloves and stepped forward so that she was standing right in front of him. He was a little taken aback by how heady she made him feel - like he was entranced. She raised a hand to his hair and picked something out of it. “Bit of tree.” She said, her eyes sparkling. She stepped away from him. “Did you get everything you needed?”  
“Yeah.” Dean replied, frowning.   
“Cool. You doing anything this evening?”   
“Er,” Dean started.  
“Good,” Lory said, brushing breezily past him, “How about a drink, Kansas, I know a good place.”   
And with that she was gone out of the door in a flick of silver hair.


	3. Episode 1: New Kids on the Block (Pt. 3)

Meredith was beginning to feel more like herself already. She was growing fed up of being alone in her bedroom. Peggy, their third housemate, was in the room above clattering about and listening to hideous pop music that made Meredith want to pull out her eardrums. Lory still hadn’t got back from wherever it was she was going. Meredith sat up in her bed cautiously and looked at the piles of still unpacked boxes. The nearest, a box of books, was popped open and just on the top was Meredith’s photo-album. She reached out cautiously for it and thumbed through the memories it contained of her parents and grandparents. She hesitated as she saw the necklace her grandmother had left her displayed proudly in a photo of the old woman. Meredith ran a finger over it and frowned, wishing she had asked more questions when she had had the chance. Putting the album to one side, she pulled out the crest from beneath her pillow, the one her grandfather had slipped into her things. The metal almost pulsed as Meredith looked at it once more. There was something enticing about it, odd. She remembered what she had been told about not delving too deeply into her own history.   
She jumped as she heard the front door bang. Her own bedroom door was ajar enough for her to hear Lory tell someone to ‘wait here’ and then the sound of footsteps taking the stairs two at a time. Meredith rewrapped the crest but couldn’t quite put it away before Lory appeared in the gap, knocking as she pushed the door open.   
“Hi, sorry.” Lory said, her auburn eyes falling on the crest before looking back at Meredith. “You feeling better?” Meredith couldn’t read her expression but it seemed to falter as Lory watched her put the tissue paper down, like she too could feel the strange energy.   
“I’m feeling a lot better, thank you. Who’s downstairs?”  
“Just a guy I’m helping out.” Lory said. She took one last look at Meredith’s photo album before looking upwards at the racket above. “Christ Peggy needs to learn good music.” She looked back to Meredith, sat on the floor surrounded by her photo album. “I’m heading to the bar for a drink. Do you want to come?”  
“I’m still not feeling that good.” Meredith declined. It wasn’t a lie, she was still feeling weird, she just couldn’t quite explain why. “You go. This guy you’re helping out…” Meredith gave Lory a look but Lory shook her head.   
“Just after my brain.”  
“Sure.”   
“Alright, Mom.” Lory teased. “You sure you’re okay?”  
Meredith nodded. “Go, have fun.”   
“It’s a work thing!” Lory insisted, shaking her head but laughing. “See you later. Call me if you need me.”   
“Will do.” Meredith said as Lory disappeared back into the corridor. She heard the man, his voice gruff, shout up the stairs, “Hey, Lory you mind if I get a drink?”  
“I’ll be right down!” Lory replied from the end of the corridor near her own bedroom. Meredith nudged her bedroom door closed with her foot, not wanting to pry. She was looking back at the photo of her grandmother and the crest at her neck, remembering her grandfather’s words about protecting herself. On an impulse she unwrapped the crest again and slung it around her own neck. Instantly she felt much more powerful as the oddly warm metal settled against her skin. She ran her fingertips over it as she listened to Lory heading back downstairs, saying something to her guy friend, and then the door shutting. Meredith, pausing for a moment, crossed to her window and peered down from behind the drapes. The man Lory was with was tall and gruff looking, but Lory seemed at ease with him. Even from this distance she could tell the man radiated a protective energy. Meredith started, realising that she could almost see a white light pulsing around him like a shroud. Meredith looked down at her own hand. No energy. Meredith looked back at where Lory and the man were disappearing in the distance. The light was still there. Meredith rubbed her eyes and looked again. The light was gone. Meredith shook her head and closed the drapes, heading back to bed to gather her thoughts. She was sure she wasn’t going crazy. She didn’t have the time to go crazy.She buried her head under her pillow and clutched the crest around her neck, trying to make sense of everything she had felt in the last few days. Only, none of it made sense. 

****

Dean looked up to two triple scotch-on-the-rocks being placed on table in front of him, condensation glistening on the glass. They were being held by five elegant fingers with long manicured black nails. He followed the fingers up the bare arm to see Lory smiling at him, her head cocked coyly on one side, her long silver hair curling over one shoulder as it escaped from its clasp.   
“How about it, Kansas?” She asked, expertly flicking one of the glasses so it slid closer to him. He caught it just as expertly, his ring clinking on the glass.  
“How about what?” Dean asked, hitching himself up in his chair and watching as Lory slid into the chair across the table from him. There was something about her that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.   
“I heard you can hold your liquor.” Lory shrugged knowingly, her auburn eyes smiling.   
“Oh yeah?” Dean asked, raising the glass to take a sip, “Where’d you hear that?”  
“Your brother likes to talk about you.” Lory tossed her curls over her back.  
“Yeah, Sam would. Good things, I hope?” Dean watched her run a thumb under the silver chain around her neck. Was this flirting? Or was she just being friendly?  
Lory shrugged one shoulder, raising her own glass to her stained lips, “Mostly.” She took a sip, smiling as she placed the glass back onto the table.  
“Is this a challenge?” Dean asked, his eyes twinkling. Lory beamed and leant forward onto the tabletop, the silver bangles on her left wrist tinkling. Dean frowned slightly, forcing himself to concentrate on her eyes and not the delicate curves just below her chin which were currently accentuated in the black off-the-shoulder blouse she was sporting. This was definite flirting and he was determined not to fall into her trap.   
“Why?” Lory asked, “You scared you’ll lose?”   
It was Dean’s turn to lean forward. The leather of his jacket creaked as he matched her pose, the glass clutched in his fingers. He raised a single eyebrow in challenge. The corner of her mouth twitched as if she was trying not to smile too wide, and she wrinkled her nose in the most Samantha-like way, the ring in her right nostril catching the light. One of her curls was slowly making her way back over her shoulder, and Dean was finding it harder not to break eye contact.   
“Bring it Massachusetts.” Dean replied.   
Lory grinned. “Lets see what you Southern boys are made of.” She raised her own glass in cheers and Dean clinked his against hers, his eyes sparkling. Simultaneously, and without breaking eye-contact, they both downed their triple shots and slammed them down on the table. Lory giggled and held up a hand.   
“Paolo!” She called to the muscular Italian behind the bar, “Two more triples if you please!” Lory winked at Dean and he felt his damaged heart flutter. He could do little more than gaze at her in awe as Paolo slid two more glasses down in front of them.   
“Keep ‘em coming, Paolo.” Lory ordered. Paolo made a mock-salute and returned to the bar.   
“I shouldn’t. I have work to do.”   
“What work is that? I thought you were just visitng your brother.”  
“I am… but I work in…” He thought quickly, “Pest control. I need to keep my wits about me.”   
“Never more than five feet from a rat, right?”  
“Something like that.” He was struggling to keep focused as he looked at her.  
“You’re allowed one night off, surely?” Her expression was unreadable. He hated feeling this much out of control. He nodded and she grinned at him. “How you doin’?” Lory asked, her fingers entwining around the glass.   
Dean twitched his nose cockily, “Barely feeling it.” He replied. “You?”  
“Never better.” Lory replied, clinking her glass once more against his. Once more they drank in one go without breaking eye-contact. This time the liquid burnt on the way down and Dean let out an involuntary cough. “Whoops.” Lory teased, her eyes sparkling as Dean thumped himself angrily in his treacherous esophagus.   
“Next.” Dean barked at Paolo, who obligingly slid not two but four glasses towards them. The game was on now. He wasn’t going to be beaten by this vixen.   
“Sure you don’t want something other than scotch?” Lory asked.   
“Got anything stronger?” Dean asked cockily. Lory giggled.   
“I underestimated you, Kansas.” She said. Dean felt something brush his leg and realised she had crossed her legs under the table. He could see her bare ankle in her green suede heels poking out. She had a silver anklet adorned with a Celtic tree of life.  
“Are you trying to distract me?” Dean asked. He could hear his double-crossing tongue slurring the words slightly.   
“Not at all.” Lory replied, downing her third drink. It didn’t seem to be affecting her at all. Dean silently cursed his own body whilst he followed suit, the room swimming slightly. Was the music really that loud? Why was he losing? Who was this minx? Should he be worried? At least the fourth drink went down easier. And the fifth, and the sixth. By the seventh, however, he was struggling. The room was spinning and this beautiful goddess in front of him was shifting in and out of focus.   
“How are you holding up there, Kansas?” Lory’s voice sounded distant and far away despite her shape being mere feet from him. His fist clenched on the table as he struggled to keep his heavy head upright. Her face came briefly into focus, and he was amazed to see it was inches from his. He could smell the vanilla scent of her perfume. She had a tattoo poking out of her neckline, he couldn’t quite make it out. He felt her hand on top of his fist and he frowned at it. Was this real? Was she really touching his hand? Her skin was so soft. “You know you can give up whenever you want?” She continued. God her eyes were deep. If he had been just a little bit more sober he was sure he could have seen into her soul. Were they freckles on her nose?  
“Give up?” He managed to ask. Why was she not more drunk? “Never.” He wanted to kiss her. Would she mind? Could he even aim properly? Why did she have two pairs of lips...  
He felt another glass being pushed into his hand. Could he? Dare he? Why couldn’t he just kiss her? Did she want him to? She was so close to him. He raised the glass to his lips, his arm heavy with defeat. She was just watching him. How many had she had? Was she matching him or had she been playing some game? Was Paolo in on it? That son-of-a-bitch, he’d get it out of him later. He touched the glass to his lips but couldn’t bring himself to drink. He was going to kiss her. It was now or never. He lowered the glass again and leant forward, hoping his aim was true. Everything went black as he passed out on the table top.   
Lory managed to move the glass out of the way just before Dean’s head smashed into it. There were cheers from her colleagues behind the bar as the competition was won. Lory smiled and gently stroked a hair out of Dean’s closed eyes.   
“Should have gone to college, Kansas. You coulda learnt a thing or too.” Lory whispered, before downing not only his forgotten drink but her seventh too. She leant in close to him as she raised herself from her chair. She dug in the front pocket of his jacket for his phone and slid it open, scrolling through his contacts to find Sam’s name. She tried not to read the messages already in the chat that popped up but couldn’t help it when she saw her name. She prevented herself from scrolling but the messages on the screen read:   
SAM: Going where?  
DEAN: A bar with this Lory chick. I don’t know man, I’ve got a funny feeling about her.  
SAM: Funny like you want to gank her, or funny like you want to give her something else?  
DEAN: You’re vulgar Sammy, you know that.   
Lory hesitated before typing a message, wondering what on earth was meant by ‘gank her’. She looked at Dean’s unconscious form and for the first time felt scared about what she had got herself in for. She shook her head and typed a message: I don’t feel too good, Sammy. Nirvana bar, asap.   
She put his phone back into his pocket. “Sweet dreams, Dean.” She whispered, before planting a single kiss on his cheek. The red stain would remain until he woke up and tried to remember whatever the hell happened. She didn’t feel like he was dangerous, but she couldn’t be too careful. She pulled on her jacket and left with a wink at Paolo.   
The first thought Dean had when he came round was of why his head was pounding so much. The second was why he was dripping wet. Easing his head off of the table and rubbing the stiff out of his neck, he looked up to see Sam sitting opposite him, an empty water jug in his hand.   
“Sammy, what..?” Dean managed. Where was he?   
“Have a good night?” Sam asked, his eyes twinkling maliciously.   
“Not entirely. Where am I?” Dean asked, looking around. He was in a bar, was where he was.   
“You don’t remember?” Sam asked. “Everything we do on a day to day basis and you get taken out by a woman and a drinking competition.” Sam laughed. “I take it you didn’t even text me, she did?”  
“What?” Dean asked. He looked once more around at the bar and suddenly the previous night came flooding back to him. Lory, the scotch, everything. How had she, a little girl from Massachusetts, out-drank him, a demon hunting man from Kansas? He found it all highly suspicious. He caught sight of Sam beaming at him from across the table. “What?” He repeated, this time in response to Sam’s smug face.   
“Nothing,” Sam said, “Only I’ve never seen you this way with a woman.”   
“That was no woman.” Dean said, jabbing a finger onto the table top, “That was a demon.”   
“A demon?” Sam repeated skeptically, “Just because she outwitted you?”   
“Yes.” Dean said, not at all convincingly. Sam laughed and handed him a napkin to mop up the remaining water dripping from his fringe.  
“Maybe she’s just a woman,” Sam teased, “And maybe you’re just smitten.”   
“Smitten?” Dean asked, as though the word was new to him. “I’m not smitten.”   
Sam lounged back in his chair and chuckled. “You are so smitten!”   
“Shut up.” Dean growled, pushing himself back up from the chair with urgency. The room span and he felt an uncomfortable and all too familiar sensation gurgle in his stomach. “I’ve got to go.” Dean garbled, hurrying in what he hoped was the direction of the bathroom. Sam laughed to himself as he watched Dean bolt through the rough wooden doors, shaking his head at his obviously enchanted big brother. He made a mental note to thank Lory if he ever saw her again for proving that Dean was indeed human. Sam frowned, thinking about what Dean had said about her being a demon, and then remembering the tingling he had felt in his hand after he had shaken hers. Maybe Dean was on to something? She may not be evil, not in the usual sense of the word, but she was definitely not entirely human.   
Dean returned from the bathroom looking pale and sweaty. He briefly stopped at the bar to order what Sam assumed to be a triple shot of coffee, or a bloody Mary, or both, before sitting down opposite Sam again and rubbing his stiff neck. Sam raised an eyebrow at him.   
“What?” Dean snapped. “What now?”  
“You’ve got a…” Sam gestured at Dean’s cheek. “Something.”   
Dean frowned and rubbed a hand over his cheek as Sam laughed at him.   
“What is that?” Dean asked, looking at the red on his fingers.   
“Lipstick.” Sam chuckled.   
Dean leant forward, his fingers held out for Sam to see and a look of proof on his face. “Demon.” He said, as though that settled things.   
“Why don’t you confront her if you’re so sure?” Sam asked, earnestly. Dean met his eyes and narrowed his.   
“Alright,” He said, “I will.”   
“Do you know where she lives?”   
“Yeah. She took me to her place yesterday.”   
“She took you to her place and didn’t gank you there and then? She sounds like a dangerous adversary.”   
“Look. You and I both know something weird is going on on this campus. She could be the reason.” His mind was made up.   
“So you’re going to see her again?” Sam asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement at Dean’s plight. Dean frowned, annoyed that Sam wasn’t taking this seriously.   
“Shut up.” Dean growled again, as a steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of him. He was not smitten, and she would not win. 

****  
“Hey.” Meredith tapped Lory on the shoulder. Lory pulled off her headphones and put down her tablet as she turned to face her. They were in the living room, Lory laying back on the couch cushions with her feet up.   
“Hey.” Lory said, shutting up the loud 80s classic rock that blasted out. “What’s up? Glad to see you up and about.” She brushed her damp hair out of her eyes and offerd Meredith a grin. Meredith was frowning at her a little.   
“Can I ask you something weird.” Meredith asked.   
“Always. I like weird.” Lory sounded excited.   
“Who was the guy you were with yesterday?”   
“Dean? He’s just a guy I met. He wanted me to show him something at the museum I volunteer at. Why?”  
“This is going to sound crazy… but he…” Meredith stopped herself, knowing how insane she was about to sound. Lory was frowning at her. “I looked out my window after you both left and he had this… light… around him.”  
Lory didn’t seem to think Meredith was crazy. She looked a little shocked, but her next question took Meredith back. “What colour was it?”  
“What colour…?” Meredith repeated disbelievingly. “Lory, I just told you the guy you were with was glowing and you want to know what colour?”  
“Yes.” Lory replied seriously. Meredith frowned at her.   
“White.”  
Lory’s expression softened. She smiled a little. “That’s good.”  
“Good?”  
“Yeah. At least it wasn’t black or red or even pink.”  
“You don’t think I’m crazy?” Meredith asked. Lory gave her a kind look.   
“Have you ever seen lights before?”  
“No.” Meredith shook her head.   
“Do you see one now?” Lory asked. “Around me?”  
Meredith squinted her eyes as she looked above Lory’s head. She shook her head.   
“How about now.” Lory closed her eyes for a split second. Then, as though a light switch had been flicked, a soft pink began to radiate around Lory’s body. Meredith clutched the arms of the chair she was sitting in in shock.   
“How did you do that?!” Meredith sounded on the brink of a panic attack.   
“Meredith,” Lory leant forward and gently put a hand on Meredith’s knee. “You don’t need to worry about it.” The pink light faded.   
“What’s happening to me?”  
“You can see auras.” Lory said as though it were obvious. Meredith stared at her.   
“Auras?”   
Lory nodded. “What colour was I, out of interest?”  
“P...pink.” Meredith stammered. Lory raised an eyebrow and giggled softly.   
“Sums me up.”  
“You just turned it off though. How?” Meredith didn’t believe anything that had just happened.   
“I’m just very good at putting up walls.” Lory said. “I’ve had years of practice.”   
“Walls?” Meredith shook her head, running her hands through her hair. “Why is this happening to me?”  
“Sometimes it can take a great trauma to…” Lory clicked her fingers, thinking, “Activate, if you like. What you’ve been through in the last few days would certianly qualify.”   
“What does any of this mean?” Meredith sounded about to panic.   
“Do you trust me?” Lory asked. Meredith hesitated, not trusting anyone or anything right now, but then she nodded slowly. She did trust Lory, she realised, completely. “Take my hand.” Lory reached out her fingers towards Meredith. Meredith slowly took them. Almost immediately as she wrapped her fingers around Lory she felt calmer. Things were becoming clearer.   
“What’s happening?” Meredith asked, though the panic was gone from her voice.   
“I think you’re an empath.” Lory said. “Quite a strong one at that. I’m feeding you calming energy through touch. Seeing auras is often the first symptom. You’re quite a strong one, too.”  
Meredith blinked at her, then ran a finger absentmindedly over the crest at her neck. Lory frowned at it. “It must run in your family.” Lory nodded. “Strong family ties are often a symptom.”   
“How do you know so much about it?” Meredith asked.   
“My turn to sound crazy?” Lory said with a small smile. “I’m a pagan. It’s how I can put up walls. In laymans terms,” She saw Meredith frown, “I’m a witch.” At the exact second Lory said the word ‘witch’ a jlt surged through Meredith’s body from Lory’s fingers. Lory herself didn’t seem to have felt it, but Meredith let go of Lory’s hand as though it had burned her. “Sorry.” Lory said, sounding worried. Meredith shook her head, the feeling subsiding.   
“This is all a lot to take in.”  
“I’ll bet. Just know you’re not alone. I can help you through this.” Meredith wanted to believe Lory’s words, wanted to ask her more questions, but the clock in the hall chimed 2pm and Lory swore loudly.   
“I have class!” She said, “I have to go, Meredith. I’m so sorry. When I get back I have some books you can read, they might help.” A flicker of red surrounded Lory as she got to her feet, a chink in her dampening power clearly, and headed to the front door. Meredith looked down at her fingers, wondering where the Hell that surge had come from. It felt dark, that was for sure, nothing at all like anything else she had gotten from Lory. She didn’t feel worried though. So, she was an empath. If anything she felt relieved that she finally had a label. She headed back up to her bedroom to research empaths on her computer.

****  
“The thing that’s been attacking people. I’ve narrowed it down to three things.” Sam said over Dean’s cell. University halls all looked the same to Dean, co-ed or no. Sure, there was something about sorority girls that got his young and free heart beating, and blood pumping elsewhere too, but he was on a mission and managed to ignore the blonde, busty twenty-somethings eyeing him up as he walked along Accommodation Row in search of Number 13.  
“Yeah? Call me back when you know which one. The ktaki may be the wrong lead.” Dean said.   
“I have other things to do, you know Dean. You could do some research.” Sam sighed.  
“I have other business to take care of right now.” Dean said, hanging up his cell and looking both ways down the long street. He didn’t remember much from the day before after his brain had had a night-long whiskey bath, but he remembered the address: Number 13, Salem Street. Sure enough there it was now, towering above Dean in a display of 18th century glory, complete with black and white panels and rough wooden architecture. Dean hesitated before climbing the steps, looking around to see if anyone was eyeing him weird - it was a girls hall after all. There was nobody around, and if there was they were so lost in their own world of test papers and impending exams. Damn, he didn’t regret not enrolling. Dean reached the top steps and knocked on the black gloss door just underneath the silver ‘13’ plaque.. He didn’t have to wait for long before the door was opened by a pretty girl with masses of brown curls and big brown eyes, but looking peaky and quite exhausted. Dean was momentarily taken aback as she frowned at him.  
“Can I help you?” Meredith asked, looking Dean up and down and raising an eyebrow in enquiry, despite her weak state. He was glowing just as strongly as yesterday, but this time grey specks floated in his aura.  
“Yeah,” Dean said, slipping his hands coyly into his back pockets in an attempt to make himself look as innocent as possible. “I’m Dean, I’m here to meet Lory. She’s my,” He paused to think of some excuse. “Campus buddy.” That sounded plausible.  
Meredith’s skeptical expression changed to one of question as she once more looked him up and down. She was getting a feeling from him, though she couldn’t put her finger on it. She welcomed it, however; it was a massively pleasant change from the overwhelming feeling of trauma she’d been cursed with over the last few days and now the sudden news that she was an empath. And he didn’t seem harmful, in any case, ven with those grey specks. In fact, Meredith could have sworn the way he said Lory’s name reminded her of a schoolboy pining for the pretty girl. Her heart went out to him.   
“She’s not in right now, but you’re welcome to come in and wait.” Meredith said, smiling and stepping to one side.   
“Thanks…” Dean paused, allowing her to fill in her name.   
“Meredith.” Meredith said.   
“Meredith.” Dean repeated, edging past her and into the hall. She gestured for him to go into the living area.   
“Have a seat.” She said.   
“Actually,” Dean tried to play the innocent look once more. “Could I use your bathroom?”  
“Sure,” Meredith said, shutting the front door. “It’s just upstairs and to the right.”   
“Thanks.” Dean said, and made for the stairs. Meredith watched him go with her head on one side, wishing she had the confidence Lory possessed. In time, she thought.   
At the top of the stairs Dean glanced behind him to make sure Meredith hadn’t followed him. The coast was clear, and so he turned his attention to the hall. It wasn’t enormously long but it spanned both directions. Sure enough he could see the open bathroom door just to the right. Squinting at the door in front of him, he realised it had the name “Meredith” written on a card and slotted into the space. That made his job ten times easier. Looking left and right, he once more checked behind him before following his gut instinct and turning left. He was thankful for the carpet as he crept along the corridor, muffling each treacherous step. He hoped Meredith would think he just had a bad gut as the corridor wound to the left and he still hadn’t seen a room with Lory’s name on it. He was beginning to think he should have turned right past the bathroom when he saw it at the end of the corridor, a wooden door with the name ‘Lory’ on a card, and various disappointingly generic scrapbook photos of vintage dresses, shoes, bands and - he felt a small stab of admiration - cars. Glancing over his shoulder, he tried the door handle and was surprised to find it unlocked. So she was trusting, good to know. Knowing he didn’t have a lot of time, he slipped into the room and was surprised at what he found.   
Although Dean wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from this mysterious silver haired beauty, it wasn’t that her room would be almost entirely empty. She didn’t seem to own many possessions at all, at least not on the surface. The walls were a generic cream colour, the carpet a dark grey and the neatly made bedspread patchworked in silver and white. A battered teddy bear was sitting up against the pillows, one eye missing and a bemused expression on its face. A walk-in wardrobe took up most of the right hand wall, a multicoloured array of swing dresses and matching heels lined up to perfection. So she was neat. The grey curtains were open and displayed a view of the East common, where students were going about their business as though someone hadn’t just been murdered. Dean crossed to the windowsill and ran a finger over it - no trace of sulphur there. He crossed to the chest of drawers and began to pull them open. One was filled with neatly folded cardigans and jackets in matching colours to the dresses in the wardrobe. Another was filled with silver bangles, pearl earrings and colourful brooches. The last was - Dean’s heart skipped a beat - filled with lacy underwear. He hesitated briefly before closing it quickly, shutting his eyes and taking a breath. When he opened his eyes he focused on the stack of books on top of the chest of drawers, and his heart almost stopped entirely. There, on the surface, surrounded by melted candles, a small wooden box overflowing with Tarot cards, a rough wooden pentagram and three bronze statues of unrecognisable Pagan deities were at least ten books with titles that made Dean want to reach for the salt: “Everyday Magick”, “Tarot Spells” and “1001 Spells for the Solitary Witch” to name a few. Dean froze, unsure of what to do. As if of it’s own free will, his hand reached out and picked up the nearest book, entitled “Magick for Beginners”. He flicked it open, whilst simultaneously holding it at arms length, to a page entitled “Passionate Love”. The ingredients listed called for a whole bunch of herbs, a couple of essential oils and most disturbingly menstrual blood. Great. Lord he hated witches.  
“You know,” Came a subtly New-England voice from behind him that made Dean snap the book shut, “This is the first time I’ve had a man in my room the entire time I’ve been at college.” Dean took a moment to compose himself, mentally checking he had both his gun and his salt in his pocket, before turning to face Lory. She was leaning against the door frame with her arms folded and her legs crossed, a look of amusement on her face. Dean found himself struck dumb at the sight of her, something he forced himself to snap out of - now wasn’t the time.   
“What are you doing in here, Dean?” Lory asked, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it carelessly onto her bed. She didn’t seem too concerned to see him standing there. He steeled himself for the confrontation as she stood opposite him, her hands on her hips. Dean forced himself not to get distracted by her curves… he pulled a roughly hewn crucifix from his coat with shaking hands. Lory raised an eyebrow at it.   
“You’re a witch.” He said, deciding the straight road was the best road. He held up the book as proof. Her eyes flicked to it, and then back to his face. She raised an eyebrow and slightly pouted her lips. Damn he liked it when she did that. No, he needed to focus.   
“You’re a hunter, aren’t you? I’ve heard about men like you, who track down supernatural creatures and, how would you say, ‘gank’ them. You’re not interested in the ktaki for Native American history. You want it because you think whatever it is that is killing people is a shadow being. And you think witches are warty hags who eat children.” Lory sighed heavily. “Guess again, pretty boy.” She said, her voice almost sympathetic. She didn’t seem to be panicking at all. The way she folded her arms almost seemed to be a challenge - he found himself faltering.   
“Are you kidding me? All this voodoo stuff here is proof.”   
“Voodoo?” Lory repeated, chuckling incredulously. “And I thought you knew what you were talking about.” She was definitely sounding sympathetic. She took a step towards him and he held the crucifix defensively. She raised an eyebrow and simply reached past him to pick a book off the shelf. It was a small book, one that Dean had overlooked, and she held it up for him to read. He frowned as he did, not sure what to think.   
“Wicca.” He asked, taking the book.   
“Not a witch.” Lory said, shaking her head. “Wicca. It’s a form of Paganism.”   
Dean frowned.   
“What? Did you think I’d put a spell on you or something?” Lory asked.   
Dean caught her eye.   
“No, I…” He started, not at all convincingly. Lory smiled at him and took the books out of his hand gently, then wrapped her fingers around the crucifix.   
“The only thing this is good for here is decoration.” Dean put the crucifix away sheepishly, embarassed. She was standing so close to him he was struggling to concentrate. “Love magick is wrong, Dean. You don’t need to worry about that. I’ve done my share of dabbling in it, yeah, but not anymore.” Her voice was almost a whisper as she put the books neatly back on the shelf. She was standing so close…  
“If you haven’t put a spell on me,” Dean started before he could help himself, “Then how come I feel…” He stopped, cursing himself internally.   
“Feel what?” Lory asked. She slipped her hands into her back-pockets and cocked her head onto one side imploringly.  
“Feel…” Dean started, his eyes scanning hers. It would be so easy to just… He shook his head to break the trance. “Why do you have a pentagram?” He gestured at the shelf.   
“Do you not know anything about modern witchcraft?” Lory asked, almost offended.   
“So you are a witch!” Dean pointed an accusing finger at her.   
“Who do you think you are, John Proctor?” Lory asked.   
“Who?”  
“I’ve told you love magick is wrong, and still you think what your feeling isn’t your own thoughts.”  
“How do you know what I’m feeling?” Dean asked defensively, his voice rising in volume.  
“I can see it in your eyes.” Lory’s voice matched his in tone.  
“See what? I’m not feeling anything.” Lies. “All I know is witches are evil old hags who cast spells to mess with people.”   
Lory suddenly snatched up the Wicca book and thrust it into his chest so hard she knocked the wind out of him and he struggled to catch his breath. He’d never seen this side to her, her brown eyes almost burning with anger.   
“Educate yourself, Dean Winchester. I’ve met narrow-minded dicks like you all my life, telling me I’m a heathen or I’m going to hell. White magick does exist too, you know, not just dark magick.” The anger faded and she looked like a wounded animal, her eyes big and round and innocent. “Don’t talk to me until you’re ready to listen.” She removed her hand from the book and Dean caught it, taken aback by her reaction and feeling profoundly guilty. She looked so hurt he wanted to apologise. Lory looked like she was fighting tears. “You don’t know a thing about me.”   
Dean opened his mouth to reply, to apologise, to say something to right this wrong, but she crossed to the door and held it open for him. “I thought you were different.” She said, her eyes shining with tears.   
“Lory,” Dean started, still clutching the book to his chest.   
“Get out.” Lory replied, hanging her head so as not to look at him. Dean thought it best to do as he was told and crossed sheepishly to the door. He turned in the threshold to face her, but she simply repeated, “Out.”   
Dean did as he was told, hurrying down the stairs and past a bewildered looking Meredith and out the front door, the book still clutched in his hand. What the Hell had just happened? He needed to find Sam, maybe he could make sense of it.   
Meredith looked at the slamming door and then up at Lory, who sat at the top of the stairs with her arms folded around her knees.  
“What was that about?” Meredith asked.  
“Nothing.” Lory shrugged. “Do you want those books on empathy?”  
“Sure.” Meredith said. She knew Lory needed the distraction. She ascended the stairs to where Lory led the way down to her bedroom, wanting to get to the bottom of why Lory was so guarded but knowing she probably never would. Not magickally, anyway.


	4. Episode 1: New Kids on the Block (Pt. 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lory, Dean, Sam, Meredith and Gwen take on the shadow creature.

“You absolute idiot.” Sam said, snapping the book shut and thrusting it across the table towards Dean. Dean blinked at him.  
“Not you too.” He said.   
“After everything you’ve seen and you can’t open your mind that you might just like her for her?” Sam scolded. Dean pouted, not used to, nor liking, being told off by his baby brother.   
“I know what I saw. She had all the hallmarks of witchy-ness.” He wiggled his fingers half-heartedly whilst Sam fixed him with a stern stare.   
“Read the damn book Dean.” Sam opened it to the introductory page and jabbed a finger at the screen. “Wicca is a form of modern witchcraft that focuses on nature and the female power. Their fundamental rule is harm no-one, and don’t bend others will. She physically cannot put a spell on you or anyone without a) their permission and b) serious consequences.”   
“She said she’d dabbled in love magick before.”  
“And paid the price.”  
“Yeah, well…” Dean faltered. “What about the pentagram and candles and shit?” He demanded. Sam turned another page to a section on ‘Elemental Tools’.   
“Protection. You above anyone should know that. What were you going to do with a crucifix anyway, stab her with it?!” Sam let out an incredulous laugh, “For someone so smart you are so dumb sometimes.”  
Dean folded his arms and sniffed saltily. “So she’s not a witch?”   
“She is, but she’s a light witch who means only good. And she has not. put. a spell. on you.” Sam jabbed his finger into Dean’s chest with every word. “Whatever you’re feeling is your own doing.” Dean rubbed the spot with a childlike pout. Sam sat back in his chair, satisfied. “You like her, and I think you owe her an apology.”   
There was a moment in which Dean met his eye.   
“Shut up.” Dean hated that Sam was always right. He grabbed the book off the tabletop and made to leave. Sam watched him, shaking his head in bewilderment.   
“Do it before nightfall. I need you to go shadow hunting after that.” Sam ordered.  
“Yes, sir.” Dean said, slamming the door behind him. Sam rolled his eyes at his idiot older brother, an expression that was far too familiar. 

****  
Lory was wrapped up in her own thoughts as she bundled her satchel onto her shoulder and waited for the hundreds of people to flood past her and out into the freedom of the campus. Professor Crevaho was packing up his notes when he caught sight of her descending the steps unhappily.   
“Are you alright, Lory?” Crevaho called. Lory looked up at the sound of her name and nodded, forcing a smile.   
“Yeah, thanks Professor.”   
“Everything okay with that Malcolm fella? He spoke very fondly of you the other day.”   
“He did?” Lory was taken aback. “That’s nice to hear.” Her voice came out flatly.   
“He seems a nice boy.” Crevaho said encouragingly. “It’d be good for you to meet someone. You always seem so lonely.”   
Lory wasn’t sure that she liked that Crevaho had recognised her loneliness.  
“Yeah, well.” Lory said, shifting uncomfortably, “He’s not. See you later Professor.” Lory left before he could say anything else, heading out of the hall and into the corridor. Besides, she wasn’t lonely. She was going to meet Meredith now, take her to the paranormal section of th elibrary so she could research empathy in the history of her own ancestors. Hopefully they’d kill a few hours into the night inside the shelves of books. The crowd of the lecture had dispersed and she was the only one making her way to the door. The warmth of the dying sunlight hit her square in the face as she started to descend the steps, lost in her own thoughts. The argument with Dean had brought up all of the ghosts of her past and she just wasn’t ready to deal with them right at this moment.   
“Hey, Lory.” Came an all too familiar and more than slightly unwelcome voice from the bottom of the steps. Lory looked up from her thoughts, wondering if she had thought so hard she had actually conjured him up, to find Dean standing in front of her. “Can we talk?” He asked, before she could react.   
“Not right now thank you.” Lory said curtly, trying to side-step him. “I’m meeting someone.” He stepped in front of her to stop her. She stopped on the step above him.  
“Please. I want to apologise.” Dean asked. Lory folded her arms, partly for the attitude but mostly to hold herself together. Even on the step above him she was only just eye-height with him.   
“And blocking my path is the way to do that?” She asked sarcastically, then sighed. “Honestly,” She said, trying to dart past him again. He held out a hand to stop her. “There’s no need.”   
“There’s every need. I was a jerk. A narrow-minded, uneducated jerk.” There was a pleading tone to his voice, something she hadn’t heard before. He sounded sincere. She let down her guard.   
“Keep talking.” Lory said, unfolding her arms to slip her hands into her back pockets.   
“What,” Dean said, looking around, “Here?” Lory shrugged in response.  
“You’re not letting me leave so why not?” Lory spat. She could see Meredith standing a little while away waiting for her. She was watching the scene with a frown. Dean took a breath and reached into his jacket to pull out the book. “I assumed things about you before I knew more, it’s a fault of mine and I’m working on it.” Lory raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry.”   
“You read it?” She asked. Dean nodded.   
“I’d like to learn more, if you ever have time?” He said honestly. Lory surveyed his expression, glancing at Meredith for confirmation. Meredith shrugged, thinking it sincere, and Lory sighed at Dean in response.  
“Okay.” She held out her hand for the book. Dean placed it in her outstretched fingers, not taking his eyes off of her eyes.   
“So… are we okay?” Dean asked tentatively. Lory looked down at the book, then back at him.   
“It’s going to take more than that,” She said, “But I’ll tolerate you.” She smiled at him, the sparkle back in her eyes. “Meredith and I are going to the library right now if you want to start your education now?” She asked. Dean hesitated, knowing Sam was going to be waiting for him, but knew how important it was to make it up to Lory. He nodded and gestured for her to lead the way. “So what made you react like that? A hunter thing, I suppose?” Lory asked, slipping the book into her bag and stepping down to walk towards Meredith.  
“Um,” Dean started. “It’s a long story. Maybe don’t advertise that I’m a hunter to anyone.”   
“Another time then.” It wasn’t really a question, more of a warning. She softened. “You have my word.”   
“Er, sure.” Dean replied, knowing full well he’d avoid the answer for as long as possible.  
“For the record,” Lory continued, “You’d know if I had put a spell on you.”   
“I would?”  
“Love magick is powerful and destructive, Dean.You wouldn’t be able to think for yourself. It would eat you up. Love is a powerful enough force without help.” Lory said. She stopped walking and, still with her hands in her pockets, turned to face him. They were metres from Meredith, but Meredith turned to look the other way so as not to pry on the increasingly pink colour ebbing from Dean’s aura. This was an intense moment, only for Dean and Lory. Lory’s eyes met his. “You’d know if it was the real deal.”   
“How?” He could smell her perfume again. His heart was beating fast under his shirt, he was surprised she couldn’t hear it. Maybe she could, he didn’t know. She definitely had freckles on her nose.   
“Because there’s nothing like it.” She replied, holding his gaze for a few moments. She could see the pain in his eyes, the secrets he was keeping. She reached out a hand and placed it on his arm. He looked at it and then back at her. “You’d know if I had feelings for you. For the record,” She said, smiling. She stood on tiptoes, even in her heels, and lightly kissed him on the cheek. “I don’t.” She lingered a little too long. He could feel her breath on his ear. He looked at her. He had no superpowers, no magick, but he knew in that moment that she was lying. She rocked back to her usual height. He smiled back at her, his cheek tingling. “Shall we?” She said, giggling softly as she turned to Meredith. “Hey. You’ve met this idiot, right? He’s going to come and be educated too.”  
Dean hesitated as Meredith smiled at him. She could tell from the intense pink radiating from his cheek that he was struggling.   
“Sure.” She said with a smile. She turned to Lory and whispered, “He needs to learn to put up walls.”  
“I know.” Lory whispered back. “He needs to learn a lot of things.” She raised her voice as they began to walk away and Dean was still standing still. “Dean?!”  
Dean jerked and began to follow them both. He knew he really needed to concentrate on the goddamn job, he couldn’t afford to keep getting distracted. But boy, what a distraction. Lory forced herself to concentrate as they walked towards the library. Her heart was beating so loudly she was surprised Dean couldn’t hear it. There really was nothing like it.

****  
Gwen rose from her seat in the library and checked out the few books she had found that might help. She signed out of the building, a little disappointed that she hadn’t bumped into the tall boy she had met a few days ago, and stepped out into the ever darkening sky. She pulled her hood over her head and cradled the books to her chest, lost in her own thoughts as she set off back to the noisy house she called home, at least whilst at college. She had settled in for the most part, and everyone did seem nice enough, if only she weren’t so goddamn shy. Even now she could have used someone to walk home with. She wasn’t scared of the dark, persay, but after everything that had happened lately she couldn’t be too careful. She could see a small group of people walking towards her as she rounded the corner onto the main road through campus. There were never any cars on it, and if it were any earlier in the day it would have been swarming with people. Now there was just the three coming towards her, one tall man and two shorter women, one curvy and one skinny with bouncy hair. And the shadow lurking that she did not see. 

Dean’s cell rang and he apologised to Meredith and Lory as he took the call.   
“Sam?” Dean said, “Yeah, I’m outside the library almost.”  
“You’re supposed to be meeting me, Dean. What are you doing?”  
“I’m going to do research.” Dean said.   
“We’re running out of time.” Sam argued. Lory and Meredith tried not to listen as they walked a little ahead. A single figure was coming towards them with her arms filled with books. She had her head hung as though trying to avoid them, and Lory recognised her from orientation day.   
“Look, we don’t even know when this thing is going to strike. We don’t even know for sure what it is. Until then there is no point…”  
But Dean was cut off arguing with Sam when they watched the shadows behind the girl in front of them stretch out and hook her around the ankle. Dean yelled a garbled farewell into the cell as Meredith and Lory hurried forwards to help the screaming girl, who had been pulled to her front and was being dragged into the bushes, screaming. Meredith grabbed hold of the girls hands but dropped them instantly as she felt the fear surging through Gwen’s body. Dean fumbled in his jacket for salt, not knowing what else to throw at the creature. It was formless, a foaming mass of shadow with claws and a blue pumping heart the only thing solid and visible. It was dragging the girl backwards, but Lory grabbed hold of her hands and pulled her back , giving Dean enough time to throw the salt at it. The salt did nothing except make it angrier. It let out a sound much like that of a screech owl.   
“Dean!” Lory shouted, indicating that she was losing the grip on the girl. He hurried to take the girls hands and Lory held out an outstretched hand to the creature, wrapping her own fingers around the girls’ ankle and trying to prize the creatures talons off of her. As soon as she made contact with the creature it released the girl and slipped back into the shadows. The girl, panting and crying from fear, let Dean pull her to her feet.   
“Hey, are you okay?” Dean asked as Meredith and Lory both looked in horror at Lory’s hands. The creature had fled when she had touched it - why? Lory turned her attention to the girl, who was pulling away from Dean.  
“It’s okay.” She said, panting herself, “It’s gone. What’s your name?”  
“Gwen.” Gwen replied breathlessly. “What was that?!”   
“A shadow creature.” Lory said. “It’s gone now. Gwen, I’m Lory. This is Meredith and Dean. Meredith, take Gwen back to our place.”   
“What are you going to do?”   
“Dean and I need to go to the museum.” Lory said.   
“What? Now?!” Meredith said.   
“There’s only one way to kill that creature. It’s in the vault at the museum.”   
“You’ll be okay.” Dean said with a reassuring smile to Gwen, “I’ll get my brother…”  
“Hey!” Sam’s voice came from across the campus and he ran over to them. “What happened?”  
“Speak of the Devil.” Dean said. “That creature just attacked…”  
“Gwen, are you okay?” Sam asked.   
“You know each other?” Dean asked indignantly.   
“Big picture.” Lory corrected him. “That thing could come back.”   
“Right.” Dean nodded, “Sam, take Meredith and Gwen back to Meredith’s house.”  
“My room is upstairs at the end of the corridor. You’ll find stuff to protect the house there.” Lory ordered. Sam nodded.  
“Come on.” Meredith began to walk the shaking Gwen away, touching her by the sleeves, but she turned desperately back to Lory. “What am I going to do about the…” She whispered, “Empathy.”   
“White light.” Lory garbled, “Build yourself a wall. I’ll be back soon.”   
“White light, right.” Meredith nodded and turned back to Gwen.   
“Dean, Lory.” Sam said, “That thing is a…”  
“Don’t say it.” Lory said urgently. Sam frowned at her. “You say it, it comes. I know what it is, and what it wants.”  
“What does it want?” Dean asked.   
“It feeds on dark and depressive thoughts. You let such thoughts enter your mind and,” She clicked her fingers, “It eats your soul.”   
“Yeuch.” Dean said. Sam looked impressed that Lory knew of such things. “Let’s go and get this knife, gank this son of a bitch.” Lory nodded and together they began to hurry away. Sam frowned after them but did a she was bid, following Meredith and Gwen.  
“I don’t understand something.” Dean said as they hurried towards his car, “Why did it disappear when you touched it?”  
“I don’t have a depressive thought in my mind.” Lory shrugged. “Life’s too short. I love who I am.” Dean looked admiringly at her as he dug in his pocket for his keys. He couldn’t help but be impressed.

****  
Gwen was shaking as the dark girl let them into her house. None of them had said a word on the way back from the library. Sam walked a little behind them, a semi-automatic in his hand and his eyes wide. Gwen had no idea what was going on, who these people were, not really, or why she felt she could trust them. Maybe just because they had been there at the time when she needed them most.   
“You got any salt?” Sam said, following them into the hall and briefly looking around the enormous replica 1600s room. The staircase was directly ahead of him, a corridor running parallel to it and leading further down the house. Meredith was helping Gwen into the living room to the right. There were no doors on this floor, just enormous grecian archways leading into each room. The entire place was done out to look classical in style, but the random additions of CDs piled high or books made it more like home. Above their heads the stairwell must have led to another corridor, but it acted as a balcony from what Sam could work out.  
“Kitchen!” Meredith shouted. Sam looked to his left at the open archway that led to the black and white tiles and headed inside, opening all of the walnut cabinets until he found what he was looking for: an enormous vessel of table salt, a smaller one of rock salt and about three different types of other salt. Somebody either lived a high-sodium diet or really knew what they were doing. Sam settled for the table salt and hurried back to the door, sprinkling a hefty dose over the threshold. It probably wouldn’t keep the shadows out but for now it was the best he could do. He kept the vessel in his hand as he entered the living room knowing he might need it. Meredith had settled Gwen on the couch and was handing her a blanket. The living room was a lot more modern than the rest of the house, if not in style then in decor.   
“What do we do now?” Meredith asked as Sam caught his breath.   
“Wait it out, I guess.” Sam shrugged. “Dean will call me when they have the knife probably.”  
“What even was it that attacked… it’s Gwen, right?” Meredith looked at the girl, reading the fear from her aura. Gwen nodded, her aura pulsing. Meredith closed her eyes briefly and did as Lory had told her, surronding herself with a thick aura of her own white light. When she opened her eyes again the colours had gone. Meredith sank onto the other couch in awe.   
“I can’t say its name.” Sam shook his head mournfully. “Just trust me. It’s bad news, but Dean knows how to fight it.”  
“It won’t attack again, will it? Whilst Dean and Lory are getting the… the knife?” Meredith folded her arms, concentrating on her own white light as she saw Gwen’s aura flicker into being again. She had no idea how Lory did this without thinking, it was exhausting.  
“It’s growing bolder.” Sam sighed. “Normally they only attack in darkness.”  
“But wait, that other girl. She was attacked during broad daylight.” Meredith chimed in, ignoring her own strife for the moment.  
“You’re right.” Sam frowned, “I’d forgotten that. She must have been thinking some really dark thoughts for it to do that.” He shook his head, wishing he had done more research. Maybe he couldn’t do a degree and be a hunter at the same time, no matter how much Dean had convinced him otherwise. “Gwen,” Sam said gently, sitting on the arm of the couch. Gwen flinched a little. For a shy girl this was really not what she had wanted to get caught up in during her first week. She remembered how kind Sam had been in the library, how lonely they had both been, how welcome she had felt around him. She forced herself to concentrate solely on his face as he spoke. “Can you tell me what you were thinking about? When it attacked.”   
Gwen looked at him for a moment, wide-eyed, then in her tentative British accent she replied quietly, “How lonely I was, I guess.”   
“I’d say that was dark.” Sam said. He gave her an apologetic smile.   
“You don’t have to be lonely anymore, sugar.” Meredith said with a kind smile at Gwen. “I don’t know if I’ve introduced myself properly, but I’m Meredith. And Lory, my housemate, she’s the one who pulled that thing off you. Stick with us, we’ll make sure you’re not lonely.”   
“Thank you Meredith.” Gwen said with a small smile. For the first time since she had started at this college she felt welcome. She frowned, remembering the creature and how it had felt at her ankles. She turned to Sam. “Will they be able to do it? To defeat it.”   
“I hope so.” Sam remembered what Lory had said about her books. He got to his feet. “I’m going to go and look at those books Lory mentioned. End of the corridor, right?”  
“On the left.” Meredith nodded. “She never locks it.”   
“Thanks.” Sam headed back into the hall and took the stairs three at a time. Meredith watched him go and then smiled at Gwen.   
“So. You’re British?”

****  
The Impala screeched to a halt at an angle outside the museum.   
“Do you even hold a valid licence?” Lory scolded as she braced herself against the dashboard.  
“Nothing wrong with a bit of dangerous driving when it’s needed.” Dean shrugged, kicking open the door and heading out. Lory climbed out of the shotgun seat and they both ran up the steps to the dark museum. “You’ve got a key, right?”  
“Don’t need one.” Lory said. Dean watched in awe as she pulled a bobby in out of her hair and unwound it, sliding it into the lock without a care for him watching her. Within seconds the lock clicked expertly open and Lory turned the handle, darting inside and typing in the alarm code to silence the blare that was emitted. Dean followed in a trance.   
“Where in the name of all that is Holy did you learn that?” He asked.   
“Do you want to learn about my sordid youth, or do you want to get the knife?” She began to run down the corridor.   
“Right.” Dean nodded, mentally putting a pin in this conversation as he followed her. They skidded around the corner to the artefact room and Lory played her lock-picking trick again on the door, squatted down in her tight trousers so Dean could barely concentrate. “Don’t you have ID? That volunteer pass thing?”  
“So they can know it was me? Are you mad?” Lory bit her lip as she concentrated, something Dean noticed. It was hot. He shook his head, getting distracted.   
“What about cameras?” He looked around above their heads to pull himself out of it.  
“Broken.” Lory said. “Some kids tampered with them.”  
“What kind of town is this, anyway?” Dean sounded astounded.   
“You’d be surprised.” Lory pushed the door open. They slipped inside and, before she could pick a third lock a third time, Dean held his hands up to stop her. He didn’t want to be outshone again.   
“Really? You’re going to do a macho display now?” Lory asked as she watched him pull out a lock-pick on the cabinet. She folded her arms and watched as he struggled to manouvre it. “Anyone ever told you you’re the definition of fragile masculinity?”   
“Not until now.” Dean said as he pulled the cabinet door open. He reached for the blade but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.   
“Wait!” She hissed, “Not the skin, remember.”  
“Right.” He watched as she shrugged off her blouse and used it wrapped around her hand to pick up the blade. “Why’s that again?” He was lost in the tattoos on her arms and chest above the vest she was now wearing. She gave him a skeptical look as she caught him staring.   
“This blade was enfused with light from the ancestors in a special ritual. It’s the only way the Lenape tribe knew of defeating the… the shadow creature. But if a human was to touch it… let’s just say that’s too much power for one being. It’s why we keep it back here and not on display.” She wrapped it in her blouse and shut the cabinet. “Come on. Let’s catch ourselves a shadow.” She had disappeared before Dean could process what she had said. He hurried after her, catching up just as she exited the museum. The door clicked locked again behind them as they took the steps three at a time. Dean pulled off as violently as he had parked. Almost immediately his phone started ringing.  
“Yeah?” He barked.   
“Dean.” It was Sam on speaker. “Have you got it?”  
“Hi, Sam.” Lory said, taking the phone from Dean. “We have. You got anywhere with how to summon it?”  
“Hi Lory. From these books of yours I can gather that the thing feeds on negative thoughts. Usually you’d have to say it’s name to summon it, but it seems desperate if it’s appearing without being spoken. It’s like it’s stuck on random, but saying it’s name is a direct way to bring it right to you. I’d suggest an open space.”  
“I know just where.” Lory nodded, gesturing at Dean to a turning further down campus.   
“So we find the space and we just think dark thoughts to summon it?” Lory clarified.   
“Think dark thoughts and say it’s name. You know what it’s called, right?” Sam asked.   
“Yeah.” Lory nodded. “I do.” She had gone quieter than Dean had ever seen her. He frowned at her, seeing her facade crack. For the first time he realised she had lied to him when she had said she didn’t think dark thoughts.  
“It’s fast moving. You’re going to have one shot, really.” Sam added.  
“What are we aiming for exactly, Sammy?” Dean chimed in, looking away from Lory.  
“It has a heart. That blue glowing thing? That’s what you’re aiming for.”   
“Here.” Lory gestured at the South Common. “This is as good as we’re gonna get.”  
“Wish us luck, Sam.” Dean said, shutting off the engine and taking the phone back from Lory. Lory was already headed out of the car.  
“Good luck.” Sam said. “And Dean…”   
“Yeah?”  
“Listen to Lory. She knows what she’s talking about.”  
“Way ahead of you.” Dean said, hanging up as he ran over to where Lory skidded to a halt in the middle of the common, out of reach of the streetlights. “Hey.” He said, reaching her, “How are you going to wield that if you can’t touch it?”  
“I’m not.” Lory said, thrusting the wrapped blade into Dean’s chest. “I’ll summon it, keep it looking at me, you just concentrate on stabbing the thing.”   
“You’re going to summon it? No…” Dean started, but Lory shook her head .  
“You don’t know what it’s called and I don’t have time to write it down and teach you Native American pronounciation.”  
“But… do you have thoughts dark enough?” Dean asked, but one look into Lory’s big eyes and he had his answer. He set his jaw and nodded. “Alright.”   
Lory offered him a small smile. “You ready?” She backed up from him a little, closer to the shadows formed by the streetlights. Dean nodded, unwrapping her blouse around the blade enough to get a good grip. He looked at her carefully as she composed herself, standing just short of a long shadow. “Don’t let it eat my soul, ay Kansas?”   
“I promise.” Dean said, taking up the stance. Lory gave him a reassuring smile. Then, clenching her fists and closing her eyes, she sighed heavily. Dean watched as her smile faded and tears began to roll from her eyes. The energy around her changed as she tapped into whatever dark thoughts were buried so deep.   
Then, when she was ready, she whispered two words: “Nalusa Chito.”   
Immediately the shadows around her began to bubble, ripple almost, and engulf her feet. She screamed as she was dragged to her stomach, the creature rising up out of the darkness. Dean could see the beating heart but it was moving too fast as it tried to get a good grip on Lory. She looked at him in fear and he decided to just go for it. Crying out in a long shout he hurried forwards and brought the knife down. There was an inhuman shriek and then the shadow erupted into a blast of light beneath his hands, spreading out around them. Lory covered her face as Dean dropped to his knees beside her, the knife sinking to the floor and stabbing into the ground as the creature vanished. There was a pause, and then Dean let out an incredulous laugh, looking down at his own hand around the hilt. Lory joined in, her terror turning into a giggle as she covered her mouth with a shaking hand and shook her head at him.   
“Nice aim cowboy.” She pushed herself up to a sitting position, looking at him. He offered her a smile and she returned it. Then, without warning, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him closely. He could feel her heart beating through his own chest as he held her back. For a moment they sat there, shaking and holding each other, and then Dean pulled out of the embrace and cleared his throat, getting to his feet and dusting off his knees before helping her up. She dusted herself down, inspecting the maul marks on her chest.   
“I’m sure there are better hobbies.” Lory joked, stooping to pick up the blade. It was smoking slightly. “Something tells me I won’t be volunteering at the museum for a while.” She wrapped the blade back up and shivered. Instinctively Dean shrugged off his brown leather jacket and tucked it around her shoulders before she had time to argue. Lory let him, smiling gratefully. “I need a drink.” She said, pulling herself out of it.   
“I thought you’d never ask.” Dean replied with a smile as they both walked back to the car. 

****  
Sam got to his feet as the front door opened and Lory entered, draped in Dean’s jacket and looking a little worse for wear. Meredith hurried to her as Dean followed Lory inside, shutting the door behind him and giving Sam a small nod.   
“You got it?” Meredith asked, reading Dean’s gesture.   
“We did. We got any scotch?”  
“Absolutely.” Meredith hurried into the kitchen.   
“Make that two?” Dean called.  
“You got it!”   
“Was it easy?” Sam asked. “How did you do it?”  
“Just as we discussed.” Lory said. She glanced to the living room where Gwen was sitting tentatively on the couch. “How’s Gwen?”   
“I think she’ll be okay.” Sam shrugged lightly. “She seems nice. Meredith has already sort of adopted her. And me for that matter.” He laughed lightly through his nose.  
“What a way to make friends, huh?” Lory joked as Meredith appeared with two glasses. She handed Dean and Lory both one.   
“Gwen’s lovely, Lory.” She said.   
“So I’ve heard, you’ve adopted her.”   
“Absolutely.” Meredith chirped, disappearing back into the living room. Sam looked between Dean and Lory and then dismissed himself after Meredith. Lory cleared her throat as she looked at Dean.   
“This doesn’t give you PTSD, does it?” She gestured at the glass in her hand.   
“No. In a fair competition I’d beat you hands down, little girl.” Dean teased.   
“Little girl?” Lory asked, her eyes burning, but she was smiling. “I call rematch. I still need to educate you on Wicca. And you…” She looked at him coyly, “You need to tell me about being a hunter.”  
Dean’s smile faded. “It’s a dangerous life, Lory.”   
“Mores the better.” Her eyes were sparkling and she was biting her lip again. Dean wondered what she was concentrating on. He shook his head.   
“I’m going to have to raincheck.” He said sadly. Lory’s smile faded entirely. “I’m leaving town for a bit.” Lory looked like she had been slapped. “I was only here visiting my brother and… well, I don’t stay in one place too long.”   
“I see.” Lory sadly put down her glass and shrugged off his jacket, holding it out to him. “You’ll need this back then?”  
Dean could tell he had hurt her feelings. He didn’t know what to say. He took his jacket, wanting to make it right, not wanting to leave her like this. She had darkness in her and he wanted more than anything to stay and find out what. But she decided for him, picking her glass back up and clinking it against his with a bravado smile back on her face.   
“Until next time, Kansas.” Her eyes were no longer sparkling despite the smile.   
“Lory…” Dean started, suddenly wanting to tell her how he really felt about her, but she had turned away and headed into the living room. Moments later Sam appeared as though he had been sent out. He bid goodbye to Lory, Gwen and Meredith and gave Dean a look. Dean sighed and took it as his time to leave, his angry younger brother on his heels. Lory watched the front door close.   
“Lory,” Gwen spoke up, “Thanks. For saving me.”  
“Anytime.” Lory offered her a smile, but the sound of the Impala engine pulling away outside caused the smile to fade. Meredith looked at her, reading her aura clearly: the area around her heart was a deep red, meaning broken.


	5. Episode 2: What Is In Between (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iroquis campus is once again alive with supernatural activity, and the boys are back in town.

Iroquois, Delaware.

The moon was waxy and full, hanging in the sky above Salem Street. The pavement was shining in its light, wet with rain and booze. It was a Wednesday night and though Salem Street wasn’t a main road it was a much used thoroughfare for drunken students on their way home. Saturday was for the old folk, those who couldn’t cope with the loud dance music and $1.50 drinks of the student life.  
A scream rang out along Salem Street, ricocheting off the 17th century houses.  
Salem Street was used to it. Screams often came around this time in the morning, witching hour, the dead of night.  
Two girls came into sight around the corner, lit by the dimming street lights. One, the taller, was supporting her shorter, and much more drunken, friend. Both were laughing, shrieking, and as Louise let out another scream as she stumbled it became clear the reason was not untoward. Louise and Hayley stumbled their way to a semi-detached mock-tudor house, numbers 11 and 13, and leaned momentarily against the wall to steady themselves. The houses were almost entirely identical, with crazy paving paths leading up to the steps of the front door, large bay windows to the side of the door and small flower gardens out front. The flower garden for number 13 was kept much tidier than 11. 11 couldn’t care less about flowers or weeds. Rough grey walls circled the front of the two houses, identical to all others along the street. It was against the wall to number 11 that Louise slumped.  
“You good?” Hayley slurred, leaning close to Louise and shouting in her ear as if the loud club music was still pounding around them. Neither of them noticed the shadow of a person watching them from the downstairs bay window of number 13.  
“So good.” Louise slurred back. She pushed Hayley lightly, unable to gather much strength for more.  
“See you tomorrow.” Hayley saluted to her friend and began stumbling off down the street, sashaying and staggering as she did. The street lights flickered above her.  
“See ya.” Louise shouted back, too loud. Salem Street was used to it, otherwise it would be pissed off. Louise turned to number 11 and let herself into the wrought iron gate. Her heels tacked on the stone as she stumbled towards the front door. She fumbled with her key, scratching the red paint away as she did, dropping the key and then stooping to pick it up, trying again.  
All the while she was being watched by the dark figure standing in the bay window of number 13. The figure shook her head, silver hair glinting in the moonlight, and drew the curtain. Drunks will be drunks. Others were far more refined in their drinking.  
Eventually Louise let herself into the dark hall and, in her drunken state, neglected to shut the door behind her. It was lucky Salem Street was supposedly such a safe place to live. Louise bounced off the walls of the hall as she tripped towards the stairs, collapsing momentarily onto them and giggling at her own drunkenness. “Stupid.” She slurred, spurring herself forwards as she crawled up the stairwell to the first floor. The lock to her bedroom had never worked, thankfully, so she didn’t have to fumble with another set of keys as she opened it. She kicked off her heels in a difficult maneuver and kicked them under her bed. She then dropped down onto it and rubbed the bottom of her sore feet. She smiled to herself, remembering the music in the club and the way she and Hayley had led on those boys. She reached for her cell and squinted in the bright light. It flashed up with 8% battery, just enough to text Hayley and tell her what a great night they had had, as if Hayley might forget. Her nails clicked on the screen as she found the chat and typed: “Hayls, gr8 nihht. C u tonorro.” Autocorrect be damned.  
The closet door creaked open.  
Frowning, Louise turned to it and held a finger to her lips. “Shhh.” She warned the troublesome door, then giggled at herself for speaking to an inanimate object. She put down her mobile, which promptly slid onto the floor, and stood up to unzip her dress. She turned her back on the walk-in closet in order to fight with the zip.  
The door pushed further ajar.  
As Louise bent to drop her dress to the ground and step out of it, a dark figure loomed up behind her. It was the shape of a man and its eyes glowed electric blue in the darkness. As Louise turned unknowingly towards the shape, she had no way of knowing that it would be the last thing she would ever see.  
Through the adjoining wall in the bedroom of number 13, Mallory Harris laid her head on the pillow. For the seventh night in a row she had inexplicably been awake at this time of the night, in time to, as she got herself a glass of water from the kitchen downstairs, see the drunks returning home. Term started weeks ago but they still seemed to put emphasis on enjoying the high-life. The high-life their parents were paying a ridiculous amount of hard-earned dollars for. As she closed her eyes to fall asleep again, hoping she would be able to break this waking cycle soon, she was instantly disturbed by a loud bang on the wall by her head. Lory sat up angrily and knocked sharply on the wall. Louise, her neighbour, was always doing this. Her knock was answered in quick succession by another loud bang. Lory reeled. She was far too tired and it was far too late to play silly beggars with knocks on the wall at 3.30am. Lory laid her head back onto the pillow, her silver hair fanned out behind her, and shut her eyes determinedly. She would talk to Louise about polite neighbourly behaviour in the daylight.  
Just through the wall on the side of number 11 the cream paintwork had been redecorated in red. Louise lay diagonally on her bed, an expression of fear on her face and deep gashes in her throat and chest. Another knock rang out in triumph but it was not from Louise. It couldn’t have been.  
Louise was dead. 

Lory was woken by footsteps hurrying about outside her door as Peggy, her housemate, thundered about in the heels she insisted on wearing day-in, day-out. A quick glance at Lory’s phone told her that it was 8.30am and if she didn’t get up soon she’d be late. Reluctantly, heavily, Lory swung herself out of the warmth of her bed and pulled on her high-waisted jeans and a clean Marilyn Monroe t-shirt. She swung her satchel over her shoulder, deciding to do her make-up in the bathroom, and let herself out of her bedroom. She could now hear Peggy and her second housemate, Meredith, hurrying around the kitchen at the foot of the stairs. Lory sighed and entered the bathroom across the hall.  
Moments later she reemerged, her face freshly painted and her hair tamed into a pompadour-ponytail, her characteristic headscarf and red lipstick in place. By the look at her reflection she couldn’t tell that she had spent the last few nights unable to sleep, pining over a man she barely knew and had only met a handful of times. This was a new week, a fresh start.  
She took the stairs at a skip as she headed downstairs. She bid farewell to Peggy in a flash of golden curls as the Californian headed out to her beauty class and thanked Meredith for the steaming cup of Joe she pushed towards her along the counter island.  
“Thought you might need it, sugar.” Meredith beamed at her friend. She herself sipped her coffee as Lory swung herself up onto the counter stools and nodded gratefully through her yawn. “You still not sleeping?”  
“That obvious, huh?” Lory shook her head.  
“What are you thinking about?” Meredith leant on her elbows across the island in an attempt to engage Lory like a true mother friend, her family crest displayed around her neck. Lory blinked at her. “What’s keeping you up, Lory. Something is clearly bothering you? It’s not Dean again, is it?”  
“No.” Lory said a little too quickly. She cleared her throat. “I’ve barely thought about him, anyway. I don’t know why I would. It’s not like we were an item.”  
“But you liked him.” Meredith said wisely.  
“True. But I also like the Captain of the Iroquis Indian football team. He doesn’t keep me up at night.” Lory gave Meredith a look, but Meredith didn’t buy it one bit. Lory shook her head and shrugged. “I don’t know what’s keeping me up. Last night it was the banging on my wall from Louise next door.”  
“Banging?”  
“I’ve heard it a lot lately. I don’t know what she’s up to at 3am but it needs to stop. I was going to talk to her about it this morning but,” She glanced at her watch and swore, “I don’t have time.” She swung off the stool and grabbed her satchel.  
“Lory, you haven’t eaten anything.” Meredith scolded as Lory headed for the door, already digging her headphones out of her bag and pulling them on.  
“Don’t have time! Got a four hour discussion this morning!” Lory called, shrugging on her faux-leather jacket and slamming out of the door.  
“Make time!” Meredith shouted but the door banged closed and her words went unanswered. Meredith sighed as she rolled her eyes at Lory hurrying past the window. Lory nodded a good morning to Hayley, a friend of Louise next door, but was so caught up in her panic at getting to class that she completely missed the scream that came from Hayley shortly after she entered number 11. 

****  
The pile of books almost weighing Gwen Marcus down to the floor was becoming a questionable inconvenience to getting out of the library - or moving in general. She reached a desk and dropped the pile onto it, letting out a sigh of relief as her arms groaned in thanks. Gwen looked through the titles to check if there was anything she could leave behind, and suddenly heard several thunks from nearby. Her head whipped in the direction of the noise, and a few rows of shelves down she spotted the boy she had secretly dreaded running into, but secretly wanted to more than anything - Sam Winchester. They had been through quite a lot in the few short weeks they had known each other, not least him, his brother and two girls from Salem Street protecting her from having her soul eaten by a shadow creature. Gwen made a mental note to check in with Lory and Meredith at some point in the near future. It had been longer than Gwen realised. Gwen hurried over and instantly knelt down to pick up the books for Sam without hesitation.  
“Thanks,” Sam said, glancing up. He recognised Gwen immediately and held his gaze, smiling slightly. “Hey.”  
Gwen looked up, suddenly remembering that interacting with this guy would require talking. She gave a nervous smile.  
“Hey,” She replied.  
“It’s been a while.” Sam straightened up in his kneeling position. “What’re you in for this time?”  
Grinning, but hiding it by looking down, Gwen replied, “Just some extra reading for... personal stuff. You?” Gwen remembered that personal stuff for Sam probably meant some creature too close to campus for comfort.  
“Uh, studying, mostly.” Sam shrugged. Gwen breathed a sigh of relief. She examined one of the books she had picked up for him out of habit and frowned at the title: POLTERGEISTS, NOT JUST UNFRIENDLY GHOSTS. Sam followed her gaze and his smile fell slightly.  
“Oh, and, uh, some light reading too, I guess,” he said quickly.  
Looking up, Gwen handed him the book with a reassuring smile. Though as he took it, she could feel her heart hammering in her chest and tried to keep her breathing steady. She decided to find out more on why he needed these particular books. Perhaps his intentions were positive? She had never really got much out of him as to why he knew so much about protecting from shadow creatures. Maybe shadow creatures weren’t the only things he knew a lot about.  
“Do you often read about poltergeists?” She asked.  
Sam let out an awkward chuckle and cleared his throat. “Ehe, uh sometimes. I just have an interest in lore and finding things out, I guess.”  
Gwen nodded, still unsure of whether or not to trust him. “I guess it comes in handy if you ever face on. Like those shadow creatures.”  
“Yeah. Just a little.” Sam’s eyes sparkled when he smiled. He had a lovely smile. Gwen shook her head, getting lost, and decided to press him a little further.  
“I’ve never encountered this kind of creature before. Anything interesting you could tell me?”  
And then she saw it; a flash of panic in his eyes as he hesitated, his words caught in his throat as her question threw him off.  
“There isn’t much to tell about poltergeists.”  
“They’re not just unfriendly ghosts?” Gwen joked, her laugh lasting only a split second as she gestured at the book title. Sam hesitated, not fully understanding, then realised and laughed too.  
“Yeah. Much more.”  
“Be sure to inform me when you know more?” Gwen said. This was the closest she had ever come to setting up a second meeting. It scared her. She cleared her throat. “I’d better be going. Class.”  
“Do you need a hand?” Sam asked, looking at the pile of books.  
“No.” Gwen said a little too quickly, awkwardness rising in her again. “You can barely handle your own pile.” Two jokes in quick succession? She was on fire. Literally, her cheeks were bright red.  
“Right.” Sam chuckled. “Well, see you around.” He faltered. “Oh.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled note. “Just in case you need any help.” He handed her it with a high level of awkwardness. Gwen took it, matching his level, and instantly pocketted it without reading it. “Thanks.” Gwen felt her shyness taking over again as she hurried back to her own pile.  
Just as she managed to stack it so it wouldn’t slide off, Sam called after her, “Hey. You seen Lory or Meredith lately?”  
“No. Sorry.” Gwen stammered.  
“Me neither.” Sam grimaced with his mouth to the side. “Should probably fix that.”  
“See you, Sam.” Gwen garbled.  
“Bye, Gwen.” Sam agreed as Gwen hurried away with her stack of books. Sam hesitated, wanting to run after her, when his phone rang loudly. As students all around him hissed ‘shh’ at him he dropped his books once again and dug for his cell in his pocket. It was his brother. Sam sighed as he answered for the first time in weeks but his brother didn’t even give him a chance to speak as he gabbled: “Dude. We got a case. You’ll never guess where.” 

****  
Four hour discussion lectures really did take the cake when it had been a long morning with no breakfast and very little sleep. As Professor Crevaho finished talking eventually, it was well past noon. Lory switched her cell back on to find endless messages from people in the student support groups she managed and several missed calls from Meredith and a few more from an unrecognised number. Lory frowned down at them as she left the lecture hall. They all carried the same theme: She’s dead. Somebody killed her. Somebody broke in. What the Hell had happened?!  
Lory exited the lecture hall with her eyes on the messages, her heart hammering, and preparing to ring Meredith back when she noticed a pair of grimy brown boots on the ground in front of her. She pulled herself from her phone and blinked at the man standing in front of her.  
“Hey Massachusetts.” Dean Winchester said. He was leaning cockily against the fountain outside the lecture hall with his arms folded and his lips pursed. He looked just as handsome as when Lory had first met him weeks ago, before he had skipped town and left her questioning everything.  
“Kansas,” Lory frowned, “Have you just been waiting here?” She glanced around her at her classmates who were ogling. She wasn’t pally with any of them. As far as they were concerned she was too big for her boots, or in this case her dainty court shoes, as she got straight A’s and worked part time for the Professor and did all of her extra-curriculum support. This glimpse into the personal life behind the mysterious demeanour was sure to set tongues wagging.  
“I was passing by.” He shrugged. People around them were starting to whisper as Lory spoke to this mysterious man in his rugged brown leather jacket and torn jeans. Lory felt her heart race just looking at him and she wasn’t sure it was entirely from embarrassment. She shifted uncomfortably at the attention and attempted to walk past him so he was forced to follow her and move away from the staring.  
“Passing by? At mid-afternoon on a weekday when there are classes going on when you’ve been out of town for weeks?” Lory asked quietly. The whispers were following. “Sure.”  
“It’s true.” Dean barely needed to walk quickly to keep up with her. His strides were long compared to her minute lady-like steps. She was wearing her tight jeans today which was not helping her get-away attempt.  
“Sure.” Lory repeated skeptically. In her haste her bag slipped off her shoulder and she cursed as she tried to catch it. Dean hooked a hand into the strap and made to pull it from her.  
“Let me carry it.” He said chivalrously. Lory blinked at him. No man had offered that before, yet the distrusting woman inside her shook her head.  
“I’ve got it.” She said, brushing him off and pulling the strap back onto her shoulder, brushing her silver hair out of the way as she did so. She could feel her cheeks flushing. She decided to circle back to the question at hand to avoid explaining her independent woman crap. “Are you sure you weren’t just waiting for me?”  
“Maybe a little.” Dean said, unhurt entirely by her independence. He liked a woman who put up a little fight and he had definitely met his match in Lory Harris.  
She smirked, then remembered the messages on her cell. “Look, Dean, I’m flattered but I can’t right now. I have women freaking out about some sort of break in and, well, a murder.” She whispered the last word as she glanced around them.  
“That’s why I’m here too.” Dean smiled at her. “It’s what I do, remember.”  
“You think this break in is supernatural?” She had stopped walking and was leaning close to him to whisper.  
“It’s worth an investigation.” Dean shrugged.  
“You think it might be the shadow creature again?” She started walking again, Dean easily keeping up with her.  
“No. This is something different. I’m on my way back from checking out the scene.”  
“You’ve seen it? Where was it?” Lory stopped walking again.  
“Salem Street, actually.” Dean said with an uncomfortable shift.  
“What?!”  
“I have to admit I was a little worried when it came over the police radio.” Dean blushed a little. Lory smiled at him minutely.  
“Worried? You thought it was me?”  
“How many Salem Streets are there in Delaware?” Dean shrugged. “I’m glad it wasn’t.”  
“Wait. You were still in Delaware?”  
“I’ve been around, yeah.” Dean blushed some more. Lory couldn’t help but grin at him.  
“You just couldn’t stay away, could you?” She teased, then her smile faded as she remembered that somebody on her street was dead. “What do you think has done this?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“Then why are you talking to me. Shouldn’t you be scooby-ganging it out with your brother?”  
“I just…” Dean shrugged apologetically. “I…” Dean could not understand why she made him so flustered. He had been practicing this conversation all the time he had been standing outside her lecture hall but now she would not let him say what he had rehearsed. She both angered and intrigued him all at once. He wanted to both prove her wrong and let her win. He hated how she made him feel but he loved it. She was all he could think about. He couldn’t bring himself to leave Delaware, for Christs sake. Even Sam had noticed, as the bruise on his chest proved from when Sam had thrown a book at him this very morning. He had been concentrating... just not on what Sam was saying.  
Lory started walking again, ending Dean’s train of thought and clearly fed up of waiting for him to answer. “Do you know the victim’s name?”  
“Er, hang on.” Dean delved in his jacket pocket and brought out a notebook. “Yeah. Louise Danport.”  
Lory gasped and stopped walking once again.  
“You know her?”  
“Of course I do. She’s my neighbour. She was my neighbour.”  
“I’m sorry.” Dean said softly. “Were you close?”  
“Not particularly.” Lory wrapped her arms around herself mournfully.”If I can help at all… let me know?”  
Dean cleared his throat. “Actually, I did want your opinion on something.”  
Lory turned to face him sharply. “My opinion?”  
“Yes.” Dean frowned at her. “Why is that so shocking?”  
“Nothing.” Lory shrugged half-heartedly. “Not many people want my opinion, that’s all.”  
“Why not?” Dean asked. She was doing that thing she did where she went from confident and cocky to vulnerable all in the space of one breath.  
“I tend to be a bit too opinionated for people to handle.” Lory folded her arms. “That’s all.”  
“Personally I like someone with an opinion.” Dean said before he could help himself.  
Lory smiled at him. “If you say so.” She started walking again. “What do you want my opinion on?”  
“Can we go for a drink?” Dean asked. He didn’t really want to ask her in the middle of the street where people from her class were still watching them.  
Lory raised an eyebrow. “In the middle of the afternoon?”  
“Coffee, I mean.” Dean said.  
“Shame.” Lory smiled. “Where shall we go?”  
“My car is just up here,” Dean gestured, “We could head into town?”  
“Adventurous.” Lory said, walking where he gestured for her to. “Funny how you parked up in order to just be passing by.”  
Dean pursed his lips as she laughed at him. He did not reply until they had reached the Impala. He watched as Lory stroked the rim of it.  
“Alright,” He admitted, “You rumbled me. I wanted to speak with you.”  
“And take me for coffee.” Lory corrected as she opened the passenger door. “You are paying, I hope you get that. I’m a poor student.”  
“A poor student with a stable job.” Dean argued, then withered under her gaze. “Of course.” Dean clambered into the driver's seat. He wouldn’t have had it any other way. He spurred the engine into life and Led Zeppelin blasted on the radio. Dean made to turn it down but Lory put a hand on his to stop him.  
“Don’t you dare turn down the Zep.” She warned him. Dean met her eyes, noticing the twinkle in them. Could this woman be any more perfect? He did as he was bid and left the radio blasting as they pulled out of the campus and headed to town. Lory sighed as she read the messages and typed out a quick message of condolence into the group chat for her support group and another to Meredith to ask her not to worry, she was with Dean and she’d be back soon. Meredith replied almost immediately: BE SAFE.  
Lory looked sideways at Dean as he sang along to the stereo. She really did feel safe with him, that was for sure.


	6. Episode 2: What Is In Between (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Lory discover what the creature next door is.

Lory smiled in thanks to the waiter as he brought over her coffee. Dean found himself glowing with jealousy as the waiter smiled flirtatiously at her.   
“I love your tattoos.” He said as Lory reached over to get the cream.   
“Thanks.” Lory smiled at the waiter again. The waiter noticed the glare on Dean’s face and took his leave. Dean continued to glower as Lory laughed at him.   
“What’s that about?” She asked.   
“What?”   
“The look on your face.” Lory giggled.  
Dean’s expression faded, suddenly defensive. “Nothing.”   
“Sure.” Lory felt her heart flip. If that moment had been what she thought she was going to have to work hard to keep her distant persona. If he liked her as much as she liked him they would be in trouble. She wasn’t ready to let herself get hurt again. She had vowed after the last one not to get attached. Lory stirred two sugars into her coffee and straightened her belt in an attempt to stop her hands from fidgeting nervously. She waited for him to have finished preparing his own coffee before leaning on her elbows and looking expectantly at him. He looked up briefly to see her beautiful brown eyes burning into him and lost all track of his thoughts.   
“Well?” Lory asked after a short while.   
“Well?” Dean asked the coffee he was concentrating on stirring. He couldn’t look at her.   
“You brought me out here to get my opinion on something. What is it you want my opinion on?”   
“Oh.” Dean said, having almost completely forgotten he wanted her opinion at all. “I wanted to know if you knew anything about the house next to yours.”   
“I know it used to be joined to mine.”  
“It did?” Dean suddenly perked up. This was information he certainly needed to know.   
“Yeah. Louise’s room joins on to mine actually. I could hear her sometimes, up against the wall with her...” Her voice faded out and Dean frowned at her.   
“What is it?”  
“I heard her last night. Or something. Banging. At 3am, actually.”  
Dean raised his eyebrows, surprised. “That’s the…”  
“The time of predicted death. I know.” Lory searched her coffee cup for the answers. “I thought it was just the same as it always is.” For the first time Dean saw her walls crumple. Her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them fiercely and cleared her throat.  
“Are you sure she wasn’t just with someone?”  
“Perhaps. She has been alone for a while. Her boyfriend…” Lory frowned, looking at Dean with an unreadable expression. “He died. Last year. Car-crash.”  
Dean’s eyes widened. “He died?”  
“Yeah.” Lory was looking at him warily. “Do you think he’s back from beyond the grave?”  
“Hard to say without going in with an EMF detector. That’s Electro….” He started, but Lory interrupted.  
“Electro-Magnetic Field. I know. Para-archeologist, remember.” She smiled slightly at him.   
“Right. If he died in a car-crash I don’t know why he would want to take his revenge on Louise though.” Dean frowned, suddenly very aware they were talking about an odd subject in the middle of a diner. He was also aware Lory had unnaturally long eyelashes and a curl of hair escaping about her face. He blinked, finding himself getting lost again. “Did you know him?”  
“Not really.” Lory shrugged slightly. “He seemed nice enough whenever I saw him out the window. They were very loud when having sex.” Dean blushed. She was so blasé and he loved that about her. “Do you think it might be him?”  
“It’s certainly a possibility.” Dean frowned at his own coffee.   
“I don’t know why he would want to hurt her. She’s a lovely person. She was.” Lory said quietly. She cleared her throat. “How do you know it was even a supernatural thing?”  
“I suppose it could be a run-of-the-mill murder.” Dean agreed tentatively, “Her door was wide open and there was a lot of blood.” He looked nervously at Lory, realising he wasn’t sure what constituion she had. She seemed to be made of strong stuff as she barely flinched.   
“Would a vengeful spirit cause blood? If that’s what you think it was?”  
“They can manipulate matter. It would be just as easy for a strong spirit to pick up a knife as a human. Perhaps easier, actually.”   
“Why easier?” Lory was hanging on his every word.   
“They’re about ten times stronger than humans if they are in the right mind-set.”  
“You really know your stuff, huh?” Lory’s eyes sparkled admiringly.  
“Been doing it long enough.” Dean cleared his throat as he lost himself in her again. “Do you know anything about restless spirits.”  
“Restless spirits? You mean like poltergeists?”   
“Yeah. Basically.”   
Lory frowned for a moment and Dean found himself gulping. He realised just how needy and whiney he sounded. Then, in a reassuring move, she shrugged half-heartedly.  
“I’ve never really done much research on them.” Lory blinked at him. “My field is more objects and lore of physical beings. Barghest and shadow creatures and wendigos.” She finally drank some of the coffee she’d been playing with. Lory paused, chewing her bottom lip between her front teeth. She cradled her mug and hunched her shoulders as she leant forward.  
“You know, that’s not really what opinion means.” Dean blinked at her and so she continued. “Well, an opinion is like: what do you think of his jacket or do you think she’s a good kisser.” Dean met her eyes a little too fast in a panic. She was looking at him deeply. “That’s what an opinion is. Asking me if I know anything about a house or about poltergeists is more... fact-finding.” She smiled. Dean watched as she released her lip from her teeth. His heart flipped. He loved it when women did that, and this woman was something else.   
“Right. Of course.” He said dumbly. Lory giggled.   
“I’m sorry I’m not much more help than that. But, I know where you could find out?”  
“Please don’t say the library.” Dean sounded pained.  
Lory giggled again. “Not the library specifically.”  
“Then where?” Dean asked. He suddenly remembered how much of an idiot he had made of himself when he had thought she was a warty kind of witch.   
“Crevaho’s secret room.” She smiled maliciously.   
“Sounds kinky.” Dean said before he could stop himself. His eyes widened but he relieved to see her snort with laughter. She covered her mouth with her hand and blushed bright red, looking around them as the waiter and a handful of people looked over. Dean looked at her endearingly. She put on a hard exterior but moments like that reminded him that she was in fact human and a woman. A good looking woman, sure, and one he couldn’t help daydreaming about, but a woman all the same. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, continue.”  
Lory regained her composure. “Crevaho has a room off his office where he keeps all these old books on the supernatural and paranormal. I’ve been in once for my end-term paper last year. He doesn’t let students in there normally, but I’m sure he’d make another exception.”   
“He’d let you in?”   
“He’d leave me the key.” Lory said with a nonchalant shrug. Her eyes were sparkling.   
“Just like that?” Dean asked.   
“Crevaho trusts me.” She faltered. “How much he’d trust me after I let you in, I don’t know, but some things are worth taking chances for. If you think it’s a poltergeist, sure.”   
“You’d do that for me?” Dean asked breathily. Lory’s nostrils flared slightly as though she had realised she had said too much. She held his gaze.   
“I would.” She said quietly. Her expression turned dark, “Especially because there are other people in that house. I’d hate them to get hurt when I could have done something to help. Short of Ghostbusters, you seem the best option.”   
There was a moment between them as they simply looked at one another before Lory shied away, looking back down at her coffee. Dean shifted uncomfortably before pushing her. She was clearly uncomfortable but he needed to know this information.   
“When do you think we could do this research?” He asked. Eurgh, he sounded like Sam. He disgusted humself.   
Lory shrugged. “I have a class with him in the morning. I could ask him afterwards?”  
Dean waited a beat and then asked a question that was both eating at him and entirely necessary. “Shall I give you my number?” She smirked at him and so he continued quickly, “So you can let me know when to meet you?”  
Lory’s smirk turned to an anxious beam. “I thought you’d never ask.” She held his gaze for a moment before pulling her phone from the pocket of her jeans and sliding it across the table towards him. Heart pounding, hardly daring to believe his luck, he picked it up and quickly typed his number into the contacts. It was a large phone, one of the new-fangled smart ones, and he wasn’t entirely sure where to put his thumbs as he typed. Her background was a witchy quote about being one with the Earth, empowering words that explained a lot about her demeanour. When his task was done, he handed it back to her with a smile. Lory checked his number before typing a message. Moments ater Dean’s phone chirped. Dean pulled out his own phone to read her message: THERE’S NO ESCAPE NOW, DEAN WINCHESTER. Lx.   
He blinked at the kiss on the end, trying not to read into it like a soppy schoolkid. “I wouldn’t be surprised. I change my number a lot.” Dean was smiling back as he locked his phone. There was a moment before Lory’s smile faded again. He worried he’d hurt her feelings but he was cleared of those thoughts when she spoke.   
“If our house used to be part of number 11, would the spirit pass into ours.”  
Dean raised an eyebrow. She had a point, one he had missed. “Er. Maybe. If it was tied to Louise, then no, but now she’s gone it might need investigating.”   
“What are we waiting for?” Lory suddenly downed the rest of her coffee and pulled on her jacket. “Let’s get to it, ghostbuster.”   
She was out the door of the diner before Dean had time to argue. 

****  
The scene on Salem Street was beyond recognisable. There were police everywhere, paramedics and the Crime Scene Investigation van from the damn television. Meredith watched, shocked, from her own house steps as CSI investigated the property. Poor Louise had been removed hours ago but now CSI were trying to determine if there had been a break-in. Both of Louise’s housemates had been taken in for questioning, along with Louise’s friend Hayley who had been round in hysterics earlier that morning. Meredith could feel the tension from the house. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the white light technique Lory had been helping her to perfect. She was getting better at it, stronger. She already switched on and off her ability to see auras. There was a lot that came with being an empath that Meredith had never noticed before, but since Lory had explained it to her it all made perfect sense. For as long as she could remember she had always been concerned by other people's happiness before her own. She had always been told she was too sensitive, that she took things to heart too easily. Seeing it all laid out in black and white had made so much sense to her. She watched as a ‘67 Chevy Impala turned into the street and parked up by the police cars. Dean exited as Meredith watched, looking just as suave as he had weeks previously when Meredith had first met him. He was accompanied by Lory, as Meredith had hoped, who climbed out of the shotgun seat and skirted past the barricades put in place around number 11. She looked in horror at the scene as Dean gently pulled on her sleeve to guide her to her own house. She shook her head and focused on Meredith, hurrying to her and giving her a tight hug. Meredith could tell she was overwhelmed by it all.   
“Hey.” Meredith held her at arms length, inspecting her, “It’s okay.”  
Lory nodded and stepped out of the way so Dean could shake Meredith’s hand. He was oddly calm. “Nice to see you again Meredith.” Dean said. Meredith looked between Dean and Lory suspiciously before smiling.   
“You too.” She gestured for them all to step inside.   
“Has it been like this all day?” Lory asked as the door closed behind them.   
“Pretty much.” Meredith shrugged. They all took seats in the living room, one per piece of furniture. Dean shifted uncomfortably in the armchair, feeling out of place as Lory spoke with Meredith.  
“Have you been to class?”  
“It was cancelled. Out of respect.” Meredith sighed heavily. “Poor Louise.”  
“I imagine mine have been too.” Lory thought aloud. “I haven’t checked.” Her hands shook as she pulled out her phone to check her emails.   
“What brought you back into town, Dean?” Meredith asked suspiciously as she surveyed him. He was looking at Lory, concerned, his aura ebbing slowly pink. He cleared his throat and looked away from Lory as she turned to him.   
“My brother.” Dean said quickly.   
“Sam, right?” Meredith smiled knowingly at Dean’s bald-faced lie. “How is he?”  
“Seems alright.”   
Lory giggled quietly at his rabbit-in-headlights impression, but her smile faded as she read the messages on her phone. “So many people asking if I know anything because Louise was our neighbour.”   
“I’m surprised the police haven’t been round That’s usually what they do.” Meredith looked out the window.   
“Maybe we’re on their list.” Lory said nervously. Meredith was not the only one picking up on her nervous energy as he cleared his throat.   
“Do you mind if I have a look around?” Dean asked. He was referring to his conversation with Lory in the diner but he had forgotten Meredith didn’t know his true identity.   
“Why?” She asked.   
“Oh.” Dean stumbled, “I work part time for the bureau.”  
“Right.” Meredith raised an eyebrow, not buying a word.   
“Start in my room.” Lory said, diverting the focus. “I’ll come and help in a minute.” She blushed, hoping her words wouldn’t be misconstrued. Meredith raised an eyebrow again but was more concerned with Dean’s lie. Dean cleared his throat and nodded before awkwardly leaving the room and heading upstairs. Lory waited until she heard him reach the squeaky floorboard in the hall before turning to Meredith, ready for the questions.   
“What’s with his lies, Lory?” Meredith asked.   
“I knew you could sense it.” Lory sighed. “It’s complicated.”   
“I gathered.”   
“Dean’s not really in the FBI.”  
“Evidently. They don’t exactly do part-time contracts.”   
“He’s a hunter.”  
“Like…” Meredith jerked, confused, “Of animals?” She wondered why her vegetarian, pro-animal-rights housemate would be interested if so, and also what that had to do with him being suspicious.   
“No. Of the supernatural.” Meredith stared at her in disbelief.“I know it sounds absurd,” Lory said, reading Meredith’s own aura, “But it’s true. You saw the shadow creature with your own eyes. You know there’s things out there that can’t be explained.”  
“Evidently.” Meredith said again, “Or you would be doing a different major.”   
“Exactly.” Lory laughed lightly before turning serious again, “Dean does it for a living. Hunting things.”  
Meredith frowned. “So you’re saying that there are more things out there than just that shadow thing? And witches.” She said quickly as she glanced at Lory’s goddess tattoo.   
Lory nodded. “He thinks that the thing that killed Louise…” She faltered, her mouth dry, “he thinks it was a restless spirit of some sort.”  
“Like a poltergeist?” Meredith whispered incredulously.  
“Yes. Exactly like a poltergeist.”  
“Why does he need to look around the house? Aren’t they supposed to be attached to a person not a place?” Meredith asked. Lory looked at her, impressed. Somebody had been doing their research.   
“Yeah. Supposedly.” Lory shrugged. “He’s going to check the house for EMF. Electromagnetic frequencies.” Lory corrected herself, “The houses used to be one.”   
“Right. That makes sense.” Meredith nodded. She looked up at Lory as Lory got to her feet, set to leave. “You are being safe with him, right? His job sounds dangerous, that’s all. I’d hate for you to get hurt.”  
Lory smiled at her gratefully. “I’ll be okay. I’m tough.” Lory gave a mock air-punch to prove her point before winking at Meredith and heading up the stairs. Meredith sighed, thinking it all over. Four weeks ago she had been a normal teenager with normal worries about college. Now she was well and truly buried in the supernatural and it didn’t seem there was a way out anytime soon. She found herself remembering the events of a few weeks ago as she looked out the window. First the shadow creature, now a possible poltergeist. What next? How many more people would get hurt? Had there always been this supernatural activity about or did it just manifest on Iroquis College Campus for some unknowable reason. She wondered if there was something in that, and whether the library would have anything to offer. Meredith grabbed her keys and headed out of the house. If it was going to help the investigation she was going to do her damned best.   
Lory watched from her bedroom window as Meredith skirted past the police outside number 11 and wondered where she was going. She texted her a quick message to ask and turned away from the window as she awaited a reply. She hadn’t made her bed this morning but Dean didn’t seem to have noticed. He was in his element, that was for sure, his jaw set as he scanned the room with an EMF device that seemed to have been made out of a walkman cassette player. Lory folded her arms as she watched him, wondering how he possibly fell into this line of work. She considered asking him but he seemed to be concentrating. Nevertheless he saw her watching and offered her a smile.   
“You just going to stand there looking pretty?”  
“What else can I do?” Lory asked, resisting the urge to blush.   
“I don’t know.” Dean shrugged. “Tell me about what it’s like to be a witch?”  
“Wicca.” Lory corrected. She opened her wardrobe and pulled out a flannel shirt against the chill in the air, putting it on as she tried to think of what to say. Dean raised an eyebrow as he watched her, trying not to get lost in her wearing his flannel were they a couple. He shook his head. He wasn’t the couple type. He had never been any good at it and there was no reason he could see that Lory would be any different. She folded her arms and leant against the bookshelf under the window.   
“How did you get into it?” Dean asked as he got onto his hands and knees to sweep the EMF device under her bed. Part of him wanted to snoop around at the same time, but she owned so few possessions that there wasn’t much to snoop on. Under her bed were literally a handful of abandoned shoes, a couple of books and… his heart thumped uncomfortably as his eyes fell on a discarded bra. He cleared his throat and stood up again.   
“I don’t remember.” Lory said with a not altogether truthful shrug. “I’ve always felt a magickal presence, since I was small.”   
“In what way?” Dean asked.   
“I don’t know really. An energy.” Lory frowned. The last thing she wanted to do was remember her childhood. She had wanted to talk to him about Wicca since they had met but now he was actually asking she didn’t want him to know anything about her. “How did you get into hunting?” She diverted as he skirted around the bed. She stepped out of the way so he could sweep the EMF device over the windowsill. His jaw was clenched as though he too was struggling with talking about his childhood.   
“My mom died when I was a kid.” He said quietly. “It was a demon. My dad spent most of our childhood trying to track it down. We just fell into it. Sammy and me, we had no choice.” He turned off the EMF device and held it close, lost in thought. Lory looked at him sadly, wanting to reach out to him.   
“I’m sorry.” She said. She hadn’t thought that Sam would have been caught up in the hunter's life too. Now she didn’t see any reason why he wouldn’t have been. She had known Dean for a few weeks and here she was, hunting. It was a curse that spread like wildfire.   
“It’s in the past.” Dean shrugged. “Dad still hunts now, he just does it without hus.” He cleared his throat and Lory could have sworn he had tears in his eyes. “You got folks?” He switched the device back on and moved around the wall slowly. Still the device picked up nothing.   
Lory felt her throat tighten. “Not that I know about. I was raised by the state.” Dean looked at her, his turn to feel sorry.   
“The state? Like…”   
“An orphanage.” Lory finished for him. “Yeah.”  
“Jesus Lory. I’m sorry.” Dean shook his head. He hadn’t had the best upbringing but at least he had his dad for some of it. He couldn’t imagine going it alone. The thought actually made him feel sick. No wonder Lory was so tough.   
“Why are you sorry?” Lory shrugged. “You didn’t make my mom abandon me?”  
“Do you even know who your parents are?” Dean had stopped scanning now and was instead just listening intently to Lory.   
“No.” Lory wrinkled her nose in a disgusted sneer, “Nor do I want to. I don’t need them. I’ve never needed anyone but me.” She was gripping her arms as though keeping herself together.   
“How did you get here? Studying para-archeology?”  
“I’ve always been interested in spirits.” Lory said. She subconsciously pulled on her ear. There was no way she was going to tell him the truth about why she found spirits so interesting. She moved her hand away from her ear as though he could tell just from her simple gesture.   
“You sound like you’ve encountered them before.” Dean frowned at her.   
“Do I?” Lory tried to keep her voice light and nonchalant. Her mind was filled with all the times she had encountered them and the consequences thereof. He didn’t need to know. After all it was his job to hunt these things and if he knew what she was capable of… She was close to tears, she could feel it, and the way he was looking at her wasn’t helping. She cleared her throat and nodded at the EMF machine. “Anything?”  
Dean shook his head, breaking out of his thoughts, and looked at the device. “Er, no.”   
“Have you tried it against the wall?” She put an upapologetic hand on his shoulder and lifted herself up so she was standing on her bed, gesturing for him to hand her the EMF device. He was marginally distracted be her perfect curves in her tight jeans before looking up at her and handing over the device. She looked it over. “Is this a walkman?”  
“Yeah.” Dean said sheepishly.   
“You make it yourself?” Lory asked, amusement in her eyes.   
“Yeah.” Dean cleared his throat.   
“Cute.” Lory twitched her nose at him before turning back to the wall. He felt himself blush. “How does it work?”   
“Just press that…” Dean started but she had already worked it out. He watched as she waved it over the wall that joined her room to Louise’s on the other side. The lights flashed from green to red.   
“That means there’s energy, right?” Lory asked incredulously.   
“What?” Dean asked, equally as incredulous, as he kicked off his boots and stepped up beside her. He stood close to her, both of them struggling for balance on the mattress, as he took the device and double-checked the results.   
“It’s picking up energy?” Lory sounded pleased with herself, but she hesitated. “Would it be confused by me?”  
“What? Why?” He frowned at her as he lowered the device and the clicking died down.  
“Being a witch?” Lory hesitated.   
“Not unless you’re secretly a demon possessed or a God?” He waved the EMF device over her anyway. “You’re good.” He put it back against the wall and it went haywire again. “There is definitely something there.” He was speaking more to himself than Lory.   
“It’s not going to be messed up by the wires? Right? EMF is to do with electricity and this is a joining wall.” Lory knocked on the wall in demonstration. There was a short pause, and then a knock answered.   
Dean and Lory stared at the wall in shock. The EMF device peaked.  
“What the…?” Dean ran a hand over the wall.   
“That’s what I heard this morning.” Lory’s eyes were wide, almost fearful. She looked at him. His face was set, determined. He knocked again. Moments later another knock answered. Lory gasped and gripped his arm absent-mindedly. He didn’t even notice. The job took prescidence now. “Do you know any ghosts that knock?” Lory whispered.   
Dean paused. He did. There was one type inparticular. “Poltergeists.” His eyes slid to her and then back to the wall. “They’re here.” He mocked in a sing-song voice. Lory hit his arm.   
“Now is not the time for pop-culture references.” She scolded. “Christ, Dean. There’s a poltergeist next door. What’s to stop it coming through into my room?” She gasped and covered her mouth. “It killed Louise.” There was a ong silence and then, as though in threatening response, three loud knocks followed. Lory stepped backwards, horrified, and lost her footing on the mattress. Her hand was still gripping Dean’s jacket and so as she fell so did he. They bounced on the mattress and rolled off onto the floor, Lory landing on top of Dean and the EMF device skittering somewhere under the bed. Dean groaned, winded, and coughed as Lory pushed herself up. “Sorry.” She moaned, hesitating slightly as she looked down at his face. He had freckles across his nose, just like she did. She blinked, losing herself in his face, and retreated onto her knees. Dean retrieved the device and took a moment to compose himself. He was bruised from the fall but mostly he just wanted to pull her back down and kiss her. This was a really inconvenient time to get distracted. He shook his head and pulled himself to his feet, slipping his boots back on as Lory tidied herself, blushing red and embarassed.   
“Don’t panic, Lory.” Dean said, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand as he pulled his boots back on. “I need to get next door. Find out exactly what it wants.”  
“You’re going to talk to that thing?” Lory demanded, gesturing at the wall.   
“I am.” He looked to the bookshelf by her window. “I assume you know about protecting yourself?” Lory nodded. “Do that. This wall, any wall joining the house next door. All doors and windows.” He ordered and then noticed Lory looking nervous. “Hey. It’s okay.”   
“I know.” Lory shrugged it off. She didn’t want him to know that the worry on her face wasn’t because of the poltergeist. It was because when she had landed on top of him she had wanted nothing more than to kiss him. She wasn’t that person and it terrified her to think she had been tempted. She offered him a small smile. “Don’t die?”  
“I’ll try not to.” His eye flickered in a wink before he stepped past her to exit.   
“Dean!” Lory called after him. He reappeared in the doorway. “How will you get in?”  
“I told you.” He pulled a badge from his pocket and smirked at her, “I work part time for the bureau.” He winked for real and vanished down the hallway. Lory stood for a moment, alone in her bedroom and breathing heavier than normal. She looked nervously at the wall and then shook her head, running her hands through her hair and focusing her mind on ghost-proofing her house. She wished it was the first time she had needed to do that.


	7. Episode 2: What Is In Between (Pt. 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They investigate the mysterious death on campus.

It didn’t take Meredith long to find the local history section of the library. It wasn’t very large and was definitely not very popular but it was well signposted on the second floor, a floor reserved for science, law and people who valued a good study space. Meredith claimed a table with her jacket and began to pull books off the shelves, some enormous and heavy, some old and very small. The particular section of the second floor was dead to anyone else so she began to sing to herself quietly as she worked. She knew very little about Iroquois in general, let alone the street upon which she lived. She had chosen this university based on their prize fine art degree and because it was a long way from her hometown. She grew up in El Dorado, Arkansas, after moving there from New Orleans at the age of eight. Her upbringing had not been anything specia, but they had left Louisiana after there was a crime spree not far from their block. Her mother had ignored her grandfathers requests for them to stay and moved them out of the State. Meredith stroked the crest around her neck as she thought about her grandfather, Josiah. Her grandfather’s family were steeped in old Louisiana traditions, vampires and hoodoo and voodoo, and so she had always grown up knowing about the supernatural. It was common knowledge in New Orleans, something her mother had always boycotted. As a result of her parents' skepticism, Meredith had always scoffed a little at it, yet to see it for herself. Until she had come to Iroquois that is. Meredith frowned at the cover of an Iroquois prospectus from ten years ago, trying to remember how she had even heard about it. The prospectus had just shown up one day in the mail and it seemed perfect. Come to think of it, after everything that had gone on, Meredith found herself wondering if it was all some big cosmic plan. She dismissed her thoughts and put down the booklet, opening instead on the history of the Iroquois town just south of the campus. She settled herself down amongst the stacks of books feeling like she was staring in her own movie research montage. She smiled to herself as the thought amused her somewhat. She continued to hum to herself as she poured over timelines and facts, trying to find anything that said ‘Salem Street’. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice the only other person in this part of the second floor.   
“Meredith?”   
Meredith jumped a little and looked up to see Gwen, the English girl who they had rescued from shadow creatures just a few weeks earlier. Gwen had been trying to pluck up the courage to approach Meredith for the best part of five minutes since she rounded the corner to see her sitting in her own little book fort. Meredith grinned at her, thanking fate. After it had all gone down she had forgotten to take Gwen’s number and had regretted it ever since, wanting to get in touch with her again but the campus was bigger than she had thought.   
“Gwen!” Meredith beamed, standing up and making the shy girl jump a little. “I’ve been meaning to track you down. How weird is this?”  
“A bit.” Gwen said with a small shrug.   
“What brings you to the local history section of all places?”  
“I wasn’t.” Gwen gestured back over her shoulder to the general history section, “I was researching a paper.”  
“Ah.” Meredith nodded. She gestured for Gwen to sit down as she took her seat herself. “How are you doing?” She could feel the nervous energy radiating off Gwen like a forcefield. Gwen tentatively slid into the chair and put her heavy book down.   
“Okay.” She said with a small shrug. “As can be.”  
Meredith nodded. “Yeah. Life’s been a bit tough for you lately, huh?”  
“Me.” Gwen chewed her lip, “And poor Louise.”  
“You heard about it?”  
“Louise was in my renaissance class.” Gwen gestured to the book in her hands.   
“Oh.” Meredith frowned. “I’m so sorry, Gwen. Did you know her well?”  
“Not really. I don’t really know anyone well.” Gwen sounded partly annoyed at herself.   
“Shyness is a bitch, right?” Meredith smiled kindly.   
Gwen’s eyes widened as a rabbit in headlights. She nodded minutely. “I guess.”   
There was a long pause as Meredith centred herself, trying not to read Gwen’s energy like so many of the books around them. She cleared her throat and shook the map laid out in front of her. “That’s why I’m here, actually. Louise.” Meredith said.   
“Oh?”  
“Yeah. Dean…” She caught herself, “You remember him?”  
“The brash one who’s friends with your housemate?”  
“Lory, yeah.” Meredith nodded.   
“I thought he left town.” This was the most conversation Gwen had had that wasn’t with her reflection since she had got to this university.   
“Well he’s back. Couldn’t stay away from her Ladyship/” Meredith smirked. “He said it’s because of the job but I don’t believe it for a second.”  
“Lory?”  
“Yeah. Well he seems to think the thing that killed Louise,” Meredith paused for a second, realising she was possibly being insensitive. Gwen gave her no indication so Meredith continued, “...is supernatural.”  
“A shadow creature?” Gwen said fearfully. “I thought they got it?””  
“No no, they did get rid of that. The dream team.” Meredith smiled at her own description. “He thinks it’s something else.”  
“Like what?” Gwen was so invested in this conversation now that she was quickly forgetting her shyness. Meredith was so easy to talk to she could literally feel it trickle away.   
“I don’t know for sure. Lory has a theory, so I’m doing research on the house to see if it’s tied to that.”   
“Can’t Dean do that?”  
“I get the feeling he’s more brawn than brains.” Meredith chuckled to herself. Gwen felt her heart flip as she remembered Sam was Dean’s brother. He definitely fit the definition of brains. It hadn’t occured to her that they had been doing this for a long time: fighting the supernatural. She suddenly felt very small and scared. Meredith sensed this and frowned at her.   
“I’m sure it won’t be a problem for long.” Meredith said kindly, misreading the vibes coming from Gwen, “Dean seems to be able to handle these kind of things.”   
“What kind of creature do you think it might be?” Gwen asked. Being socially awkward meant she had a lot of time to read, and one of her favourite things to read was books on folklore and monsters.   
“Lory thinks it might be a poltergeist.” Meredith ran her hands over the map, pinpointing Salem Street. Christ the street was the longest she had ever seen. They were only number 13 and that must be the first of hundreds. She squinted at the tiny, arcane print in an attempt to read the numbers. They didn’t even seem to exist before the houses were combined.  
“A poltergeist?” Gwen raised her eyebrows, her interest peaked. “Don’t they haunt a person and not a place.”   
“That’s what I thought.” Meredith agreed, “But in the movie it was the house: Native American burial ground. And, actually, wasn’t that’s house something to do with the building?” Meredith clicked her fingers as she tried to remember the name of the building she meant. “You know which one I mean, the one in Long Island?”  
“Amityville?” Gwen offered.   
“Yes!” Meredith clapped her hands on the table in her enthusiasm, making Gwen blink, “That one. Wasn’t it to do with some murders?”  
“Yeah.” Gwen nodded. “Ronnie DeFeo Jr murdered his family. It was supposedly his spirit haunting the family that moved in.”  
“I loved that film as a kid.” Meredith grinned. Gwen offered a small smile in response, but they both faded as they remembered that the same kind of thing was happening in Iroquois.   
Meredith cleared her throat. “Do you know anything about Louise that might help?” She asked, steering the conversation back to the matter at hand.   
“Not really.” Gwen shrugged. “Sorry, I didn’t really talk to her.”   
“Shame…” Meredith said. She had no idea which house on this map was theres, everything was so different. She shut the map up and sighed.   
“Sorry.” Gwen said, misreading Meredith’s annoyance. Meredith shook her head.   
“It’s not you.” She smiled kindly again. “Lory said something about Louise having boyfriends?”  
“I don’t think so. I sat behind her a lot in lectures and her laptop screen was always the same guy.” She suddenly gasped.  
“What?” Meredith asked, intrigued.   
“I just remembered. I overheard her talking in the first week, telling her friends how she was having to repeat first year because she’s flunked due to grief.” Gwen was feeling excited now, glad she was finally being of help.  
“Grief?” Meredith sat forwards eagerly.   
“Her boyfriend. The one in her laptop background. He died in a bar fight or something.”  
“A bar fight?” Meredith’s eyes were shining.   
“Yeah. A year ago.”  
“So her boyfriend dies. If she then moved on, like Lory said, and had guys round… that sounds like grounds for restless hauntings to me!” Meredith whooped quietly and pulled out her cell, hastily typing a message to Lory: LOUISE’S BOYFRIEND DIED A YEAR AGO. VIOLENTLY..   
Almost instantly a reply came: WHAT WAS HIS NAME?  
“You don’t happen to know his name, do you?”  
“No, sorry.” Gwen shook her head. She suddenly had a thought. “It’ll be in the computer archives though. There’s a whole folder for anything to do with local news.”  
“What are we waiting for?” Meredith couldn’t help but keep the excitement from her voice.   
Meredith hastily typed a reply to Lory: FINDING OUT.   
Lory’s reply came: AMAZING. DON’T SUPPOSE YOU HAVE SAM’S NUMBER? DEAN SAID HE WAS INVESTIGATING TOO. HE MIGHT NEED TO KNOW WHAT YOU FIND.   
Meredith faltered. She looked to Gwen, a thought striking her, “Quick question.You’re not still in contact with Sam Winchester, are you?” She asked.   
Gwen frowned, blushing a little, then suddenly remembered the note he had passed her earlier that day. She dug in her pocket and brought it out, unfolding it for the first time.   
Gwen. You ever get into trouble again give me a bell. Sam W. Followed by his number. He was a smoother operator then Gwen had given him credit for. Butterflies rising in her stomach. She handed it to Meredith. Meredith read the note and Gwen waited for her to tease her, mention how Sam was getting close, but Meredith just blew Gwen a kiss of thanks.  
“Gwen,” Meredith said, her eyes shining as she copied it into her phone, “This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”   
A message headed to Lory in reply: GOT IT.   
Gwen smiled wanly at her. She had never had anyone say that about her. It felt nice. 

****  
Fake-agenting his way past the police and into the crime scene always came way too naturally to Dean Winchester. He put it down to his suave charm and good looks, but maybe he was just a really good liar. Maybe that’s why he was still single. No, get real. He was single because he was a player who couldn’t settle with one woman for more than one night. I’d settle with her for more than one night. His thoughts unwelcomingly chimed in as he climbed the stairs in number 11. He shook his head to clear his unhelpful thoughts about Lory and flashed his badge again, this time to the CSI agent, focused.   
“Weren’t you only here this morning?” The CSI agent asked, a toothpick between his teeth. He was a smooth prick with slicked hair and dark eyes. Dean instantly disliked him as he offered him his smile reserved for idiotic law enforcement.   
“Never can be too careful, can we? Hows about I do my job and you do yours?” He said gruffly, pushing past. The CSI agent pursed his lips but said nothing at the plucky whippersnapper who looked far too young to be a legitimate FBI agent. Dean ignored him. His opinion was irrelavent right now. The priority was finding out what this was and doing something before someone else got hurt. They always got touchy because they didn’t want thing stouched, but how else was he going to look for clues? Dean corrected his tie and walked down the hall. The hallway was identical to the house next door except everything was mirrored and it was carpetted instead of hardwood. Personally he preferred the decor in Lory’s house. He followed the hall around the bend to the room in which Louise had been found by her friend. The body had been cleared now and there was evidence markers all over the room so stepping anywhere was a big game of hurdles. Dean stepped carefully, used to this, and reached the adjoining wall. He put a hand on it, avoiding the bloodsplatter, and discreetly pulled the EMF device out of his pocket. The room wasn’t exceptionally cold, nor were any of the other telltale signs of a haunting present. The EMF wasn’t picking anything up at any rate, not even really when he placed it against the wall. Dean glanced over his shoulder to check he was alone and then rapped his knuckles quickly on the wall. Nothing. Either the spirit had moved on or it didn’t want to play. He ran his eyes over the crime scene, looking for anything he might have missed. He dressaged himself over to the closet, the door of which was ajar, and stuck the EMF device inside it just for the sake of covering all bases. Nothing. He pushed Louise’s dresses - tiny things - to one side to check for any satanic symbols, signs of voodoo etc. Nothing. Just a series of men’s clothing hanging next to them. Odd, but he remembered Lory saying about Louise’s ‘guests’. Maybe they were spares ? Or memorabilia? He had done a thorough check under the bed, the windowsill and the drawers earlier in the day. He turned back into the room and pouted, not sure what to do now. He hated doing jobs alone, he always missed something. Think like Sam. Everybody knew he was the brawn, where was the brain when he was needed. Dean’s eyes fell on a photo on the floor beside Louise’s bed, marked with EVIDENCE 12. Crossing to it, careful not to step in yet more blood, Dean turned it over. It was cracked and had clearly fallen from the bedside cabinet. It showed poor Louise, smiling into the camera, next to a tall, strong man who looked like he could have beaten Sam AND Dean in a cage-fight whilst bench-pressing a monster truck. Dean raised an eyebrow, remembering what Lory had said about Louise having lovers round. His phone chirped. Still holding the photoframe he dug out his cell and looked at the message: KANSAS. THERE WAS A BOYFRIEND WHO DIED. MEREDITH INVESTIGATING, SHE’S TOLD SAM. Lx. There was that telltale kiss again, etched into his screen in size 8 font. He shook his head to clear it and looked back at the photo. He needed to know about this boyfriend. He put back the photoframe carefully and did one last EMF sweep before exiting the room, thanking the snotty CSI agent on his way past. He needed to talk to Hayley, the friend who had found Louise, and perhaps some of the housemates. People skills. This was always the bit Sam was better at. He dialled his brothers number as he climbed into the Impala.  
“Dean.” Sam answered on the fourth ring.   
“Boyfriend. What have you got?” Dean asked shortly.   
“Nice to speak to you too. His name was Clayton Harkoff. Straight As, football scholarship.” That would explain why he was the size of a house… on steroids. “Died in a bar fight when a group of grown men were leering at his girlfriend. Louise got away with just a few lacerations but he took a glass bottle to the neck. Severed an artery, died almost instantly.”  
“Yeuch.” Dean winced, “You got all that since we last spoke?”  
“Gwen and Meredith found it all out.” Sam said and Dean could tell he was shrugging.   
“Yeah, Lory said Meredith was in on it. Now Gwen too?”  
“Nothing wrong with a bit of back-up.” Sam said.  
“So, boyfriend gives his life protecting his girlfriend.” Dean had a sudden thought, remembering the shirts, “Boyfriend who was basically living with her.” He climbed out of the Impala again, knowing he couldn’t just leave them there. “She waits a short space of time to mourn him, then starts bringing other men into the bed they shared.”

Sam, alone in his bedroom and surrounded by information on vengeful spirits and poltergeists, listened to Dean on the other end show his way back into the house. “Yes, third time.” He said grumpily and Sam assumed there was a difficult agent the other end of the phone. Dean address him again, this time in a hushed voice, “Spirit has been watching over her, saw all this, grew angrier until it couldn’t control it. We’ve seen it before, ghosts unsure of what they’re doing.” Sam heard the scraping of coat-hangers.   
“You think he didn’t mean to kill her? I’ve seen the photos,” Sam grimaced, “It was much more than accidental.”  
“Okay, so maybe he had an anger problem in life that he carried on to death. He died protecting his girl, Sammy, he’s not exactly innocent of being a little possessive.”   
“It’s a valid theory.” Sam agreed as he listened to Dean argue his way back out of the hosue with evidence. “So you know what that means?”  
“Torch the bastard before he can go after her lovers.”  
“I’m on it.” Sam said, putting his cell on speaker and typing hurriedly to Meredith: ODD REQUEST. FIND OUT WHERE HE’S BURIED? He momtarily wondered why Meredith was messaging him and not Gwen when she was clearly there helping, but he decided not to press it. In her own time.   
“When you find out, you’re on the graveyard shift.” Dean ordered as Sam heard the trunk of the Impala slam shut.   
“Why me?” Sam asked indignantly as his eyes fell on his textbooks. He was so behind already.   
“Because I’m going to talk to the friend and housemates. Law enforcement are still holding them, they think they’re suspects. See if I can’t find out who Louise was screwing.  
“And get them free?”  
“That comes later.” Dean argued. “Prime directive now is to stop the poor dicks becoming poltergeist chow.”   
“Less poltergeist, more vengeful spirit if our theory is correct.” Sam corrected.   
“Just torch the son-of-a-bitch.” Dean grumbled, slamming himself into the driver’s seat. “I’ll have myself a flannel bonfire before I get to the station.” Sam heard the engine start.   
“Received and understood.” Sam said as his phone chirped. “On it now. And Dean?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Be nice.” Sam pleaded. “They’re only kids.”  
“I’m always nice.” Dean lied. Sam shook his head and hung up, begging his brother to have some tact. He didn’t do well on his own, Sam knew that, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Sam opened Meredith’s message to stop himself thinking about his brother. BURIED LAKESIDE CEMETERY.   
Sam sighed and dropped to his knees, dragging his kit out from under his bed and wondering why it was always him that drew the short straw and how the hell he was going to get to the cemetery and back without the Impala. 

****  
Charming his way into the police station was just as easy, but cracking the housemates, Amber and Kayleigh, was proving difficult for Dean. His patience was wearing thin as neither of them knew anything about Louise bringing home men. As far as they were concerned they never saw her. She would be out all night at clubs, get home (loudly) in the early hours and practically sleep through her classes. She was lucky if she made one a week, especially lately. It was nearly the anniversary of Clayton’s death, something Dean noted and the only piece of helpful information they gave him, and so she had been acting more erratic than usual. Neither of them knew of or had noticed anything strange occuring in the house. Maddeningly unhelpful. By the time Dean was presented with Hayley, the best friend, he was ready to give up. At first Hayley simpered about Louise being a private person, reserved since Clayton had died, still mourning him. She was so depressed after he died, feeling so guilty that he died because of her. She drank a lot to forget the feelings, but the drink made her more depressed and it was a viscious circle.  
“Do you know if she took anyone to bed?” He knew he sounded like a jackass but his patience was waning.  
“Louise would never do that.” Hayley shook her head, her eyes big and wide with desperationt o convince Dean of Louise’s innocence. “She loved Clayton so much. They came here together from high school, were talking about getting married when they graduated. He was being looked at by the Ravens so they were going to move to Baltimore.” Hayley sniffled and Dean offered her the box of tissues.   
“So you’re saying she hasn’t slept with anyone since Clayton?”  
“No!” Hayley said indignantly. “I don’t know where you’ve heard that, agent.”  
Dean frowned. The knocks and thumps Lory had been hearing must have been the spirit. It had been around longer than they had thought. “Alright.” Dean resigned himself to the truth of the matter. “Thank you, Hayley, you’ve been very helpful.”  
“Do they still think it was me?” Hayley asked, terrified, “Or Amber or Kayleigh?”  
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.” Dean sighed. Any officer worth his salt could tell it took something immensely strong and powerful to do the damage that had been done to Louise. These women were all slight, hardly able to do that kind of thing. He gave Hayley a sad look before knocking on the door to be let out.   
Back in the Impala, the sky dark around him, he rested his head exasperatedly against the steering wheel for a moment. At least there wasn’t going to be any more victims, but why would Clayton want to do that to Louise if he wasn’t doing it out of jealousy? If he had been as possessive as he was being made out to be had he simply wanted Louise with him in the afterlife? Could he not have done it in a more humane fashion. His phone buzzed twice in his pocket. He dug it out and rubbed his hand down his face to focus himself before looking at it.   
Sam: JOB DONE. At least the spirit couldn’t hurt anyone else.   
Lory: DO YOU STILL WANT IN ON CREVAHO’S SECRET ROOM? GOT ACCESS FOR THE NEXT HOUR. Dean’s heart flipped. He may not have been able to find out why Clayton wanted to hurt Louise, but he could at least spend an hour with Lory. He’d find something to do in that time, even if the case was solved as much as he could. He started the engine and pulled away, heading back to campus.


	8. Episode 2: What Is In Between (Pt. 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They tackle the poltergeist.

“So just like that you think the case is solved?” Lory asked as she finished listening to Dean recount his day since they had parted ways. They were climbing the stair-well to Crevaho’s office. Lory had changed since he had last seen her, showered. She smelled faintly of rhubarb, was wearing a tight pencil dress and her long silver hair was in a plait down her back.  
“What else is there to solve?” Dean shrugged, trying not to look at her backside as she climbed the stairs in front of him, “The boyfriend was possessive and died traumatically. Louise was depressed. Her emotions helped him manifest, he lashed out. That’s a recipe for the perfect poltergeist storm.”  
Lory paused as they reached Crevaho’s office and she unlocked it, properly this time, with keys. “And it doesn’t bother you in the slightest that she died so horribly and you’re clearly missing something?”  
“I’m sorry,” Dean said sourly, “How many ghosts have you tackled?”  
Lory giggled as she led the way to Crevaho’s secret room to the side of his office. “Alright, alright. So why are we here if you’ve solved it?”  
“I’m intrigued.” Dean’s eyes sparkled as they entered the small, dark room.  
“Are we still looking for poltergeists?” Lory flicked on the switch. It was full of dusty tomes, in higher quanitites and of significantly more age than the ones in Crevaho’s office.  
“Why not?” Dean shrugged. Lory rolled her eyes at him and crossed to a stack of books.  
“We’d best start here then, cowboy.” She said. It was hard to know where to start in the endless secret hoarders heaven they were standing in. Lory handed Dean a stack of books to begin looking through and he frowned at her.  
“Why do you call me cowboy?” He asked.  
“Why not?” She asked, her eyes sparkling as she repeated his own phrase back to him. She giggled. “I don’t know. You rise into town in your handsome steed, with your southern accent and charm the girls.” Her eyes shone.  
“I don’t have a southern accent.” Dean argued. Lory giggled again. She was beginning to frustrate him, but he couldn’t tell why.  
“Sweetie, I’m from Massachusetts. Pretty much every accent is southern to me.” She shrugged. “Alright. I won’t call you cowboy anymore.” She turned her back on him and added, “Kansas.” Dean narrowed his eyes at her but didn’t argue. There was a short moment of silence and then she turned back to him. “Hey, do you know what just occurred to me?”  
“What?”  
“I know literally nothing about you.”  
“What? Course you do.” Dean frowned at her.  
“Well, sure. I know that you’e a hunter, and you’re from Kansas and you’re pretty bad at drinking competitions,” She giggled in a way that made Dean’s heart melt, “But I don’t know anything real.”  
“What’s more real than ‘I hunt ghosts’?”  
“No. Really real.” This seemed very important to her. “I’ve spent all this time with you, you’ve been in my bedroom, and yet I know nothing.”  
“Well,” He had to admit she had a point. “It works both ways. I know nothing about you either, if you’re putting it that way.”  
“You know more about me than I know about you. You know I’m from Massachusetts, I’m a para-archeology major, I’m a witch, I was raised by the state. That’s kind of all there is.”  
“You know my Mom died, and I basically rasied my baby brother.” Dean shrugged. He wanted to get to know her, so much, but he was worried she wouldn’t want to know about him. The real him. The him that slept with women and never called them, that was basically a functioning alcoholic at this point, that had learnt to shoot a gun before he had even finished grade school. But he trusted her, he did. And he needed to know all about her. He asked the question before he could stop himself. “What would you like to know?”  
Lory smiled at him, relieved he was so willing to engage her whims. “How old are you?” She asked.  
“Have I not told you that?”  
“Not that I remember. For all I know you could be well on your way to retirement.”  
“It’s called botox honey.” He said with a sparkle in his own eyes. He cleared his throat. “24.”  
“21.” Lory replied.  
“Younger woman.” Dean said flirtatiously.  
“Older man.” Lory replied, just as flirtatious. “Middle name?”  
“Don’t have one. When I was a kid I’d tell people it was Eastwood.” He cleared his throat as Lory laughed. Her laugh really was beautiful. “I’ve, of course, stopped doing that now.”  
“Cowboy.” She teased. “You already know mine.”  
“Rebecca.”  
Lory blinked at him, impressed. She had read him all wrong. “You remembered.”  
“I did.” Dean offered her a small smile. The feeling in the air had turned. It was hard to describe. Admiration? Attraction? It was something.  
“You religious?” Lory cleared her throat and looked down at the book in her hand. She didn’t really care what it said. All she wanted to do was read the way Dean was looking at her. She glanced back at him. His green eyes were still fixed on her. He shook his head.  
“No. Not really. I mean they all have good parts and bad parts, but it’s kinda hard to be when you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you know?”  
“I guess.” Lory offered him a sad smile. There was a question burning in her but she wasn’t ready to ask it. Not yet. The questions that followed came quickly as she tried to push it down, prevent it from bubbling up. “Favourite colour?”  
“Blue.” Dean said, although it was the first to come into his mind. “You?”  
“Green.” Like his eyes. She swallowed hard. “Tattoos?”  
“Just the one.” He pulled down the neckline of his t-shirt to show a pentagram surrounded by flame. Lory frowned at it, impressed.  
“Anti-possession?”  
“Yeah.”  
“You’ve seen mine.” She gestured at her arms and the tattoo on her neck and behind her ear. “Favourite food?”  
“Bacon cheeseburger.” Dean said instantly. Lory wrinkled her nose, recoiling.  
“Too many dead animals for me. I’m afraid I’m a bit of a rabbit.” She said tentatively. Dean looked worried. She noticed and shook her head hurriedly. “It doesn’t bother me that you eat them though. Each to our own.” She shrugged.  
“I like pie, too.” Dean offered as a peace offering.  
“What kind?”  
“Any.” He smiled. “You?”  
“Pie? Or food?”  
“Both.”  
“Cherry.” She said, her eyes shining. Dean swallowed hard. They both knew what that meant. “And pizza, hands down.” He nodded, smiling wider. Lory could feel the question burning in her again. It was when he smiled like that. “Why do you wear a ring?” She asked to stifle it.  
“It was my Moms.” Dean looked down at his finger.  
“And the amulet?” Lory gestured at the necklace he wore.  
“Sam got me it when we were kids.” He gave her that smile again, his hand gripping his necklace. She could feel the question, unable to stop it. “How many women have you been with?” She kept her eyes trained on him, watching his every move. He blinked at her. Her words hung in the air uncomfortably as he looked away from her, ashamed. Lory had been afraid of that. 

****  
Sam hated cabs. He had been spoiled for the last few years with Dean driving him everywhere. Having to get a cab to a graveyard in the early hours of the night was bad enough. He decided to walk back, seeing as he was covered in dirt and ash from the poor guys burning bones. The easiest way back into campus from town was via Salem Street. It really was stupidly long, starting at 166. He walked up it, feeling the heavy shovel in his duffel bag and wondering why he had agreed to this. Just because Dean was older did not mean he got to call the shots. Sam thought about his upcoming paper and how easily he was going to flunk if he kept this up. He needed to focus his mind, stop getting caught up in hunts. Even if they did happen on campus. Sam briefly wondered why that was. Did they just follow him and his brother around like a bad smell? If that was the case surely they’d stop if Dean left, but that theory hadn’t worked. Though he had been on campus this morning, or not far from it. Sam wasn’t sure if Dean’s feelings for Lory were going to be helpful or make things worse. He had never been good at sustaining relationships with women, a fact that made Sam sad. He liked Lory, she seemed like she was going to be really cool to be friends with. But if Dean did what he always did Sam would never get a chance to find out. Why was this street so long? He was in the twenties now, moving into the teens. He’d be walking past Lory’s house soon, and the one next to it where Louise had been murdered. Sam’s thoughts turned back to the case as he couldn’t help feeling they had missed something. Something they had overlooked. He stopped in the middle of the road outside numbers 11 and 13. The cop cars and CSI had vacated, but all the lights were still off. The poor housemates had not yet been allowed to move back in. Number 13 had one light in the living room, though Sam couldn’t work out if it was Meredith in the downstairs window. There seemed to be two people. All along the street the houses had been seperated to make them easily accessible to students. Three bedrooms apiece, easier to fill. Sam stared at the sign for the road. Salem Street. Something about that name was itching at his brain, poking at him, wanting him to remember something. Before they had been numbered the houses on this street had been named, he remembered that now. Named for the families that had once inhabited them in the colonial era. Blackwood and Redwood and Bridger and Beckworth and… Sam’s heart threatened to drop into his stomach as he suddenly remembered an article from fifty years ago. He must have seen it when he had been doing his paper on unusual deaths in the area. Whiting. Sebastian Whiting. Sebastian Whiting who had committed the murder of his girlfriend, Betty Rowe, and then killed himself. In his house on Salem Street. Sam dropped his duffel bag on the ground and pulled his cell out, his hands shaking as he dialled Dean’s number. 

****  
“So, a lot?” Lory asked, reading Dean’s expression. He hesitated, wanting to tell he rthr truth but knowing she would hate him. He decided she needed to know and opened his mouth to tell her, but before he could his cell began to ring. He gave Lory an apologetic look and answered Sam’s call.  
“Sammy.” He said. “You done it…”  
“It wasn’t him.” Sam interrupted, panting. “It wasn’t the boyfriend.”  
“What?” Dean turned a little away from Lory as he fought to understand his hyperventilating brother. “Sam, you’re not making any sense.” Lory swallowed her pride at Dean failing to answer her question. She began to look through the book in her arms, trying not to listen. A piece of paper fell out and she stooped to pick it up.  
“It wasn’t the boyfriend, Dean! There was a murder in that house. There is still a spirit in there, and it wasn’t the boyfriend. That’s why we both feel like we’re missing something.”  
“Dean.” Lory said quietly, looking down at the newspaper clipping that had fallen out of the book. Dean turned to her. Her eyes were fearful. She held it up so he could read it.  
GHOSTHUNTERS CALLED TO WHITING HOUSE AFTER TEENAGE GIRL FOUND DEAD, CLAIM IT’S WHITING GHOST.  
“Sam.” Dean said urgently, putting the phone on speaker. “Where are you now?”  
“Outside Meredith and Lory’s.”  
“Sam.” Lory said, rising panic in her chest. Sam was surprised to hear her there but said nothing. “Is Meredith home?”  
“I think so.”  
“Get in there, Sam.” Dean ordered. “Keep Meredith safe.”  
“And Peggy.” Lory added. “I’ve ghost-proofed my room and any adjoining walls but if the property used to be one…” She sounded worried.  
“I’ve got it, Lory.” Sam said kindly. “Where are you going, Dean?” He added. They could tell he was walking quickly.  
“It’s my turn for the graveyard shift.” Dean said darkly. “Keep in touch, Sam.”  
“You too.” Sam hung up.  
Dean put down the book in his hands. “Sorry, change of plan.” He said.  
“What are we going to do?” Lory was biting her thumbnail, something Dean had noticed she did when she was nervous.  
“We’ve got an appointment with a dead guy.” He gave her a strained smile as they hurried out of the office. “Does that article happen to say where Whiting was buried?”  
“We’re gonna dig him up?” Lory asked, shocked, “That’s what you meant by graveyard shift, right?”  
“Does that scare you?” Dean asked, concerned.  
Lory thought on it for a moment and then shook her head. “Not really.”  
Dean had never been more impressed.  
Lory scanned the article as she hurried after him. “Lakeside. They were buried next to each other.”  
“I love it when undertakers are helpful like that.” Dean said as they hurried down the steps.  
“Wait. What exactly are we going to do when we dig them up?”  
“Best way to get rid of a spirit? Salt and burn, baby.” Dean held up his lighter for effect. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by them both that he had called her baby, but right now they had bigger fish to fry. 

****  
“Does it not scare you that they seem to know so much about this kind of thing?” Gwen asked, sipping the cup of tea Meredith had presented to her. It was impossible to get a decent cuppa this side of the Atlantic but Meredith had tried her best. They had been deep in conversation ever since the library about Sam, Dean and Lory and the weird things they seemed to have found themselves caught up in. All Gwen had wanted was to go to university, study a little, get a degree, write a book. That was all. She had never dreamed in a million years she would have nearly been killed by a shadow creature and was now caught up in another supernatural plot.  
“A little.” Meredith shrugged. She thought about growing up in New Orleans and the strong belief in the supernatural that hung over Louisiana as a state. This hardly felt any different, except this time she was making it alone without her grandfather by her side. She didn’t want to share Gwen, not now she was finally opening up, and so she neglected to mention any of this. “But they seem to know what they’re talking about.” Meredith thought about all of the advice Lory had given her regarding her own empathy. She wa sa font of knowledge, that much was clear. Meredith and Gwen were interrupted mid-conversation by a frantic knocking on the front door. Meredith frowned, getting to her feet and pulling her sweatshirt tighter around herself. It was getting colder in the air, she could feel it.  
“Who is it?” Meredith called out tentatively. It was already getting pretty late and there wasn’t much activity at this time of night on Salem Street. With a murder next door she couldn’t be too careful.  
“Meredith!” Sam called out on the other side.  
“Sam?!” Meredith hastily unbolted the door as Gwen looked on from the couch. Sam let himself in and looked between them. He was surprised to see Gwen there. He wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse now that they knew there was a vengeful spirit attached to the house itself. “What’s going on?”  
“Just your friendly neighbourhood ghostbuster.” Sam said. He wasn’t sure what Meredith and Gwen knew so he decided to just explain it all. “This is going to sound crazy and I’m sorry, but listen to me.” Sam spoke quickly. “The murder next door. It was a poltergeist, right? But it wasn’t the ex-boyfriend. The one that died.”  
“What?” Meredith asked, shocked.  
“This house used to be connected to number 11. There was a murder here, a guy killed his girlfriend and then himself. We think it was the guy.”  
“Oh my God.” Meredith breathed.  
“Do you mind if I raid your cupboards?” Sam asked but he was already heading into the kitchen. Meredith dragged herself back to her senses.  
“Salt?” Meredith asked as she watched Sam help himself. “We replaced it after last time.”  
“Good.” Sam said. “You got anything iron?”  
“Like what?” Meredith frowned.  
“Fire poker?”  
“No, sorry.”  
“Where are your pans kept?”  
“You’re going to take on a vengeful spirit with a frying pan?” Meredith couldn’t help but giggle incredulously. This was all so wild.  
“I am if you have one with an iron base.” Sam began rummaging through the cupboards. Gwen appeared in the doorway.  
“What’s happening?”  
Sam was reading the bottom of the frying pans frantically and didn’t look up.  
“The poltergeist was some dude who murdered his girlfriend. He killed Louise, and Sam thinks he might come after us too.” Meredith explained. Meredith smiled at Gwen reassuringly. Sam paused in his rummaging through the cupboards as he heard a floorboard creak above his head. He looked up at the ceiling and suddenly remembered Lory’s request. “Lory said something about your other housemate. Peggy?”  
“She’s out.” Meredith said. Sam’s eyes widened.  
“You’re sure?”  
“Positive.” Meredith nodded.Sam glanced back at the ceiling and swallowed.  
“Sam, can we do anything?” Meredith asked. Neither she nor Gwen seemed to be able to hear the floorboards creaking above Sam’s head.  
“Take this. Draw a salt circle big enough for us all to stand in.” Sam handed her the salt canister. Meredith nodded and headed out into the hall, the largest open space in the house. Sam smiled at Gwen. “Hi again.”  
“Hi.” Gwen said shyly. She cleared her throat. “Good job you read all those books, huh?”  
“Something like that.” Sam wrinkled his nose as his smile widened. There was a moment of awkward silence between them. He glanced over her shoulder to where Meredith had finished the circle. “Perfect.” He said, hurrying past Gwen and gesturing for her to join them in the circle. He handed Meredith a frying pan and gave Gwen a soup pot.  
“What now?” Meredith asked.  
“We wait.”  
“You think this spirit is just going to appear?” Meredith added, but no sooner had she spoken then the air turned even colder.  
“In my experience…” Sam whispered, “They don’t like being detected, much less challenged.”  
“Do you have a lot of experience in this kind of thing?” Meredith asked. Her voice was shaking.  
“I’d say so.” Sam shrugged.  
“Why are we challenging them, then?”  
“I’d rather draw them out then sit and wait.” Sam replied curtly. He caught Gwen’s eyes and offered her a reassuring expression. “If we stay inside the salt ring they shouldn’t be able to get to us.” He looked down to check it was in tact. He could see his breath, the air was so cold. There was a long pause as none of them spoke, crowded together in the salt ring, backs to each other like some backwards movie moment.  
“Sam…” Meredith said quietly.  
“Yeah.”  
“What are signs of a poltergeist…?”  
“Er,” Sam racked his brains, trying to remember, “Besides the cold in here? Flickers in electricity…” He glanced at the bulb above them. It seemed fine. “Knocking, footsteps.” He looked back at the ceiling. The footsteps from before had finished.  
“Floating objects?” Meredith asked in such a way that made Sam turn to her… just as the vase from the living room flew towards them.  
“Duck!” Sam shouted and they all responded, the vase smashing against the wall behind them. The vase was epilogued by knocking running all along the walls, static from the radio in the kitchen and a strong smell of rosewater in the air. Sam regained his senses and looked about him. Reaching slowly into his pocket with one hand whilst tightening his grip on the steel knife in his hand, Sam dialled Dean’s number and put the phone to his ear.  
“Sammy.” Dean replied almost instantly. Sam could hear the sound of shovels in dirt in the background. There was a muffled shuffling on the phone as Sam guessed Dean passed it to Lory.  
“How’s it going?” Sam asked as Meredith and Gwen looked from him to the activity around them.  
“We’re at the cemetery now.” Sure enough it was Lory who spoke. “Halfway down the grave.” She had put the cell on speaker and Sam could hear Dean swearing.  
“Just the one?” Sam said, panicked.  
“For now. Whiting himself.”  
“Yeah… that would explain why he feels threatened.” Sam said.  
“He’s there?!” Lory said as Sam heard Dean swear.  
“Trying to be.” Sam said.  
“Sammy!” Dean shouted. “Keep us on the line, yeah?” There was a shuffling as Lory put the phone down in order to help with the digging. “Did you find iron?”  
“Pans.”  
“You’re taking on a poltergeist with a frying pan?” Dean demanded.  
“You got any better ideas!” Sam shouted. His shout caused the lights to flicker and he remembered that poltergeists reacted to heightened emotions. He clicked the phone onto speaker and gently laid it down on the floor inside the circle.  
“Is Meredith there?” Lory asked.  
“Yeah, Lory. I’m here. And Gwen.” Meredith called.  
“Gwen?” Lory replied.  
“Hi Lory.” Gwen said quietly.  
“Lory, start on the second grave.” Dean ordered on the other end of the phone. “I’m nearly down with this one… hang in there Sammy.” There was the sound of his shovel hitting wood and they heard a crack as he broke it open. The lights flickered again and the knocking intensified. Then, all of a sudden, it stopped.  
“Where did it go?” Gwen asked quietly.  
“Dean.” Lory could be heard on the other side of the phone. “Dean!”  
The phone crackled as Sam assumed the spirit had appeared at the graveside.  
“Sam!” Dean shouted. “Sam! Draw it out, away from here!” There was the sound of fighting. Sam racked his brains. “What are you waiting for!” Sam shouted, making Gwen and Meredith jump at the authority in his voice.  
“Sam! He killed his girlfriend because he was jealous! Insult him!” Lory shouted. Sam thought hard.  
“Hey!” He shouted into the air. “I was screwing your girlfriend!” There was a pause as MEredith and Gwen stared at Sam. He shrugged a little, but it proved to have worked when there was a flicker in the bulbs and the silhouette of a strong young man appeared in front of him on the other side of the salt circle. Sam’s cell crackled and the line went dead just as they heard shout, “Light it! Light them up!”  
Sam didn’t wait for the spirit to approach them. The knocking returned and another object flew at them. They ducked and Gwen lost her footing, kicking a hole in the salt circle. It was just enough for Sam to be thrown by an invisible force hard against the wall.  
“Sam!” Gwen screamed as Meredith pulled her to her feet. Meredith hit out with the pan, catching the poltergeist hard on the back of the head. The impact went right through the spirit but was enough for it to flicker temporarily out of existence. It was too strong for it to do much damage and it came straight back. It advanced on Meredith but just before it reached her there was a whoosh of wind and the spirit burned right before their eyes. The knocking stopped, the electricity stopped flickering and the static ended. Gwen crossed to Sam and helped pull him to his feet as they looked about them fearfully.  
“Is that it?” Meredith asked, the pan still raised. “Just like that?”  
Sam nodded slowly. “Pretty much.”  
“I’m sorry about the circle.” Gwen said sadly.  
“Hey, don’t sweat it.” Sam gave her a kind smile. He was panting heavily.  
“Sam?” Dean came through on the cell. From the sound of it they were still on speaker their end too. Sam could hear the sound of their shovels.“What happened dude?”  
“Dean.” Sam picked up the cell. “Everyone’s okay.”  
“Was it Whiting?” Lory asked.  
“Yeah.” Sam breathed out.  
“We’ll get rid of Betty, just in case.” Dean said. “See you soon bro.”  
“Yeah, bye.” Sam shut his phone and looked awkwardly between Meredith and Gwen.  
“So it’s over just like that?” Gwen asked.  
“What a rush.” Meredith cried, just as the front door opened and Peggy entered. She was a bleached blonde beauty student with a big ego and an even bigger bank account and she looked between them all skeptically.  
“What happened here?” She took in the smashed vase and the salt all over the floorboards.  
“Er…” Meredith started, but Peggy shrugged.  
“Not my problem.” She added, pushing past them to the stairs. “You’re cleaning it up right?” Meredith and Sam exchanged glances. Peggy paused as she passed Sam, looking up at him with hunger in her eyes. “Who are you?” She asked.  
“This is our friend Sam.” Meredith said, “And this is Gwen.”  
“Sam, huh?” Peggy wasn’t really listening. “If you ever get bored my room is in the attic.” She winked at Sam and reached up to ruffle his hair before simpering past and climbing the stairs. They watched her go incredulously unsure of how she could be so oblivious. Meredith shook her head, used to it, and looked at the floor.  
“I’ll get the broom.” She said.  
“I’ll help.” Gwen said. Her cheeks were burning at Peggy’s advances on Sam. She would never have Peggy’s confidence, sickly as it was. The worst part was that Sam seemed to enjoy just a little part of it. He caught Gwen’s eye and found himself blushing. Gwen looked away from him and followed Meredith into the kitchen. She wasn’t rady to admit that she was jealous.  
Sam watched Gwen leave sadly, realising she must have got the wrong impression. The only thing he needed her to understand was that he wasn’t interested in Peggy. He sighed and wished he had more confidence, but since Jess he just couldn’t bring himself to admit anything anymore. He stooped, wincing as pain shot through his shoulder from the impact with the wall, and began picking up parts of vase.  
It was then that the lights started flickering again. He stood up, shards of vase in his hands, his knife abandoned, and looked in horror at the lights.  
“Sam…?” Meredith came out of the kitchen, holding up the broom defensively. “I thought it was over.”  
Sam and Meredith realised the same thing at the exact same moment. There had been two murders in this house.  
A scream came from the corridor upstairs. Sam dropped the vase and pelted up the stairwell, Meredith and Gwen close on his heels. The scream had come from the bathroom, the door closed, and the radio in the kitchen started with the static. Knocking ran along the corridor wall as they reached the first floor and Sam skidded to a halt. The wallpaper was peeled by the bathroom door as though fingernails had dragged it down, and with a flicker the figure of a young woman appeared. She must have been pretty once but now her face was mutated and her chest opened by the knife that had killed her. She glared at Sam.  
“Whores must be punished.” The spirit said in a rasp. From behind her back she produced a knife, glistening in the light. Before Sam knew it he was pushed back against the wall. “Cheaters must be punished!” The spirit screeched, its hand around Sam’s throat as Meredith and Gwen watched in horror.  
“It was you!” Sam rasped. “You murdered Louise! You murdered Sebastian!”  
“Unfaithful, lying whores!” Betty cried, lifting the knife. She made to slash it down and Sam braced himself for the end when an intense heat erupted at his feet and the spirit was consumed in flames. Sam breathed out and collapsed forwards, Gwen rushing to him as he caught his breath. The knocking stopped and the lights returned, finally over.  
The door to the bathroom opened and Peggy exited, looking in confusion at the scene that met her. She showed no sign of having seen a spirit at all.  
“Peggy.” Meredith said, breathing heavily. “Why did you scream?”  
“I broke a nail.” Peggy said with a raised eyebrow. Meredith, Sam and Gwen simply stared at her.

****  
Lory and Dean returned to the house half an hour later to find Sam, Meredith and Gwen, having cleaned up the hall and the corridor, sitting in the living room.  
“What’s up with you?” Dean asked with a grin. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  
Sam glared at him from the la-z-boy. Dean, realising that it was probably not in good taste, silently sat on the empty couch. Lory, taking a much more tactful approach, sat on the edge of the couch beside Gwen and Meredith.  
“What happened?” She asked softly.  
“We got attacked by Betty.” Meredith said as Gwen seemed too shocked to speak.  
“Betty?!” Dean asked incredulously, all facade vanishing as he and Lory exchanged looks.  
“Yeah.” Meredith said. “It wasn’t Sebastian at all. He was, to be honest, probably keeping her calm. As calm as a vengeful spirit can be.”  
“So wait,” Lory ran her hands through her hair in an attempt to gather her thoughts. “It was Betty that killed Louise?!”  
“Yeah. She was jealous or something.” Meredith nodded. “Judging by the fact she nearly killed Sam, and she kept going on about cheating, lying whores.”  
“Ouch.” Dean remarked.  
“So if we had neglected the second grave…” Lory was looking fearfully at Dean.  
“Sam would be dead, probably.” Gwen spoke for the first time. Lory gulped.  
“Good job we did then, right?” Dean said in an attempt to defuse the tension. He clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Drink?”  
Sam let out an exclamation of breath in agreement.  
“I’ll get it.” Lory got to her feet and exited to the kitchen, shaking slightly. She climbed up on the surface to reach the wine rack and pulled down a bottle of bourbon. As she climbed back down again she was interrupted in her thoughts of poltergeists and close encounters by Dean standing in the doorway.  
“Here.” He said, hurrying over to take the bottle as she hopped down off the counter. She thanked him and took the bottle again, pouring out five glasses. There was an almost awkward silence between them as he watched. She turned to him, handing him a glass. He hesitated.  
“Don’t worry.” She said softly. “I haven’t spiked it this time.” Her eyes sparkled.  
“This time?” He frowned at her. She giggled softly at his naivety and downed her own glass, refilling it as he sipped his. Concluding she was indeed joking, he finished the rest and she refilled it in his hand.  
“What a night, huh?” She said with a sigh.  
“Yeah.”  
“Is it always like this?”  
“Not always. Mostly.”  
“How do you cope?”  
“This, mostly.” He gestured at his glass. Lory’s eyes were big as she looked into his. He knew what was coming.  
“You never did answer my question.”  
Yep. There it was.  
“I didn’t.” Dean swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to hate me.”  
“You think I’m that shallow? You don’t know my number.” Her eyes sparkled deviously. He frowned, jealousy rising in his stomach again.  
“Lory.” He said. Her eyes rose to his again. She loved it when he said her name, but the way he said it was laced with concern. “I… I can’t be who you want me to be.”  
“Who do I want you to be?” Lory asked carefully. Dean gave her a look, telling her silently that she knew. She looked away from him. “Look… I get it.” She sighed sadly, though Dean felt it was more at her own reservations than at what he was trying to say. She looked back to him. “Will you leave again?”  
“The job is finished.”  
Lory nodded sadly. She refilled her own glass and clinked it against the edge of his undrunk one. “To a higher calling.” She said, her voice thick with sadness. Unmistakeable. They both drank in silence, emptying their glasses.  
“Lory.” He said her name again. He wanted to tell her he didn’t want to leave her, that he had never met anyone like her, that she just got him in a way no other woman ever had. She looked at him appealingly, knowing he was struggling to say something. He sighed and settled on, “My life… it’s dangerous. People close to me always get hurt.”  
“You think you’re the only one with baggage?” She asked. Dean frowned at her. Why was she fighting so hard? Was she struggling with the same thoughts that he was? She sighed and shrugged minutely. “Stay in touch?” She asked. Dean nodded slowly.  
“Of course.”  
“All I ask is you and I… we can be friends, right?” Lory asked. Dean nodded again. Lory stretched out her hand for him to shake. He hesitated, then clasped her fingers in his. A moment passed between them, a flicker, and then it was gone when he released her hand.  
“Friends.” He agreed. He cleared his throat and claimed on of the glasses for Sam, turning from Lory and beginning to leave the room to take it to him. He stopped in the archway, questioning why he was being such an idiot. “Lory.” A third time. Lory wiped the tear from her eye. He turned to her again and she frowned at him. “I quite like it here in Iroquois. I think I might stick around after all.”  
Lory couldn’t help but beam from ear to ear.  
“Good.” She said, fighting her feelings, “You should.”  
He winked at her and turned away to deliver Sam’s drink. He was going to stay… just to keep an eye on things. After all, his baby brother needed him. That was the only reason. Nothing else. Definitely not anyone else.


	9. Episode 3: Salem's Lot (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes Lory on a job to Salem, Massachusetts. They get closer, but Dean learns secrets about Lory that she'd much rather stayed just that: secret.

Iroquois, Delaware

Dean was more than happily sitting behind the wheel of Baby, the radio playing classic rock quiet enough to not draw attention, drinking his coffee and eating his bacon cheeseburger from the amazing diner just off campus, watching Lory from afar in a completely non-stalker-like way, when his cell rang, bursting his contented bubble. He fumbled to answer it, the ringer on his cell nowhere near as considerate in volume as the radio. As he saw Sam’s name and clicked receive, he sunk down low in the passenger seat just in case Lory, who was framed beautifully in the sunlight as she read her book on the bench, had heard.  
“What’s up Sammy?” Dean said, his voice contorted by the angle at which he was currently laid.  
“You busy?” Sam said. “He asks the drifter bumming it about campus when he’s not even a student.”  
“Er,” Dean dared glance over the dashboard to confirm Lory was still reading her book and was relieved to see she was, “Not enormously.” He sank back down again, just in case.  
Sam paused. “Are you… are you outside the science block again?” There was a frustrating hint of amusement in his voice.  
“No!” Dean said a little too quickly. Sam chuckled on the other end of the line.  
“Stalker.” He said, “I wish you’d just grow some balls and ask her out. You clearly want to.”  
“What do you want Sammy?” Dean asked grumpily.  
“We’ve got a live one,” He said, “Attempted kidnapping of a kid, perp wore a black cloak and ‘glowed’ according to the victim.” “Demons?” Dean asked, attempting to finish his burger from this linear angle.  
“Seems so.”  
“Where?”  
“Salem.”  
“Salem… Massachusetts Salem?” Dean frowned. He knew what that meant.  
“The very same.”  
“Sure it’s demons?” Dean really wanted the answer to be no.  
“It’s October, Salem, and kids. Yeah, it’s demons - or worse.” Sam said.  
“I knew you were gonna say that.” Dean said, imbedding his palm into his forehead. “I’ll meet you outside campus.”  
“Oh, I can’t come.” Sam said. “Exams.”  
“Already? It’s October.”  
“It’s law.”  
“You’re kidding,” Dean said. “I have to go alone? What if it’s witches?”  
“Witches?”  
“It’s Salem. You don’t necessarily have to go alone…” Sam had that annoying amusement in his voice again. Dean vowed to pound on him next time he saw him.  
“Who else am I gonna go with?” Dean asked.  
“Hmm,” Sam said frustratingly, “Let’s see, who do we know who is from Massachusetts AND specialises in weird artifacts and stuff..?”  
“No.” Dean said, his pride beating his heart like a drum, “No way.”  
“Stop being a pussy and realise you need her. Especially on this job.” Sam said.  
Dean didn’t answer for a long time, weighing up the best comeback for his know-it-all baby brother.  
“Bitch.” He said eventually.  
“Jerk.” Sam replied automatically. “Let me know what she says.” And he rang off, his chuckle ringing in Dean’s ears. Why did he have to be like this? Was there really a case or was it all just a ruse? How was he supposed to even bring it up with Lory - her knowing about the whole hunting thing was one thing, but actually inviting her along…? Dean dared look up over the dashboard again to see if she was still there. His heart sank when he realised she was not. He sat up a bit more, squinting around for a glimpse of her silver hair - nothing. He vowed to himself that if she wasn’t there he wasn’t going to ask her, he’d just go it alone.  
There was a tap on the window behind him, making him jump out of his skin. He looked around to see Lory grinning at him through the passenger window. She opened the door and, gesturing for him to scoot, got in. Dean sat up straight and blinked at her. So much for that vow…  
“Hey stalker,” Lory said, cheerily, sliding into the seat beside him. “You’re pretty bad at this you know.”  
“Bad at what?” Dean asked, knowing full well what.  
Lory simply answered with a raised eyebrow. Dean looked away, cursing himself. Lory picked up the discarded burger wrapper and giggled.  
“Are you kidding? The car alone is the most conspicuous on campus, never mind the music.” She turned it down as she spoke. “I have a phone, you know, and you have my number. You could just call me if you wanted to see me?” She tucked her hair behind her ear in a way that made Dean’s heart boom. He shook his head to clear it. “So do you actually want to talk to me or are you content with being a grade-a-psycho?” She continued, grinning.  
Dean pursed his lips, trying to think of a comeback. Why was he like this?  
She was watching him expectantly.  
“I wanted to know if you wanted to come on a trip with me.” He said, before he could stop himself. She raised her eyebrows.  
“A trip?”  
“A job.” Dean corrected, quickly, lest she think he meant a romantic trip.  
“A job?” She repeated. “Like a demon hunting job?” Her eyes were sparkling.  
“Sorta.”  
Lory looked like all her Christmasses had come all at once.  
“Me? Why? Where’s Sam?”  
“He can’t make it. Classes. I suppose you’ve got them too, huh?”  
“I’m a junior, it’s mostly reading at this point.” Lory grinned.  
Damn, thought Dean, so that wasn’t going to work, there was no way of backtracking. “I could use your expertise.” He said before he could catch himself. Did he sound as lame as he thought he did?  
Lory grinned at him, her single dimple soft in her cheek. “I’d love to.” She said.  
“Great.” Dean said. Great. “Can you be ready in about an hour?”  
“Sure.” Lory replied. Dean watched as she reached over to take a sip from his coffee. “You’re paying, right?” She asked, her eyes sparkling. Dean nodded. “Where are we going?” Lory asked.  
“Salem, Massachusetts.” Dean said, watching her. There seemed to be a split second where she faltered, but she recovered with a blink and put his coffee back down.  
“Awesome.” She said, grinning. “See you in an hour, stalker.” And with that she bounced out of the car, shut the door, and waggled her ringed fingers at him through the window. Dean held his hand up in acknowledgement, smiled back and, as soon as she was out of sight, dropped his head onto the steering wheel in exasperation. Why was he like this? He had slept with countless women without so much as a second thought as to how to act around them. Why was Lory so… bewitching. 

**** 

“You’re going where?” Meredith asked. She was fresh out of the shower, her wild hair even wilder and her bronze skin was glowing. She stood in Lory’s doorway as she watched her stuff things into a duffle bag.  
“Salem.”  
“Massachusetts, Salem?” Meredith whistled and clinked her fingernails against her coffee mug. “Bit far for a booty call.”  
“It’s not like that.” Lory rolled her eyes.  
“It’s a hunt, isn’t it?” Meredith’s smile faded. Lory met her eye and nodded. “Are you ready for that kind of thing?”  
“I don’t think anyone can be ready for that kind of thing.” Lory shrugged. “But I trust Dean to keep me safe and he needs someone with knowledge of Massachusetts.”  
“Ya-ha.” Meredith said, unconvinced. “And if he goes to Nashville does he track down a pretty girl who can show him around?”  
Lory rolled her eyes again. “Meredith, I’m a big girl. I know exactly how to deal with men like Dean Winchester. It’s not my first rodeo.”  
“No,” Meredith agreed, “But this one is different.” Meredith reached out with her slippered foot and nudged Lory in the hip. “You like him too.”  
“Shut up.” Lory swatted her away.  
“I’m an empathy, Mallory. There is no hiding your feelings from me.”  
“Well, get better at controlling it.” Lory said as she stuck her tongue out. She was blushing. Meredith laughed at her friend, but her smile quickly faded.  
“You’re worried, too.”  
“Will you stop reading me like a book?”  
“What is it about Salem that makes you guarded?” Meredith sounded worried.  
“I have to go.” Lory said, pushing past her and blatantly avoiding the question. She knew her reaction was obvious but she couldn’t answer her right now. Meredith sighed but didn’t push it. Lory was not great under pressure.

Lory sat on the wall outside of her house exactly an hour after her encounter with Dean. She had hurried home as fast as she dared without seeming too eager and thrown some stuff into her backpack. She had momentarily dithered over what night-things to pack as she didn’t know what the sleeping arrangements were going to be: whether it would be seperate rooms or whether she’d have to be ‘decent’. She decided she was never decent and therefore had settled on the usual shirt-and-shorts combo, deciding if he didn’t like it that was his problem. Now she was agitatedly waiting on the wall with one headphone in listening to soft rock to calm her nerves. What was she going to say to him? The drive to Salem was going to be 6 hours. And that was another thing, the destination. She wasn’t ready for him - or anyone at Iroquois especially - to know the truth.  
Her thoughts were interrupted by the tell-tale growl of the ‘67 engine rounding the corner onto the street. Lory swallowed her anxieties and pulled her headphone out of her ear. She smiled at him through the windscreen - thank God he looked as panicked as she felt - and let herself into the passenger side.  
“You good to go?” Dean asked, watching her place her backpack onto the backseat and sliding onto the seat beside him. He noticed she had changed out of the jeans she had been wearing earlier and into a (rather much shorter) pinafore dress that showed quite a bit of her legs above her knee-high boots. She flashed him a lipsticked smile: she’d redone her make-up too.  
“Sure.” She said.  
“Music?” Dean asked, pulling out of the street and reverting to one of his base settings. Lory nodded. “Driver chooses.”  
“As long as it’s decent.” She said, a hint of a warning in her voice.  
“Oh, it’ll be decent.” He promised, switching on the radio to play cassettes.The sound of classic rock filled the car. Lory nodded in approval as “No Smoke Without Fire” by Bad Company blasted.  
“Good choice,” She said, in approval. Dean was impressed to see her singing along as they pulled out of campus and on to the freeway. This was going to be a promising journey, he thought. He had no idea what he had been worrying about. 

****  
Before too long, and several singalongs and air-guitar battles, Lory had gone strangely quiet. They had driven past many signs now pointing to Massachusetts, and she was beginning to think about the demons, as they were, of her past. Dean had noticed and kept side-eying her.  
“You okay?” He asked eventually, somewhere around the NY-CT border. Lory jumped a little as though arisen from a deep thought.  
“Yeah.” She said a bit too quickly.  
“Have you been to Salem before?” Dean asked, “You’re from Lincoln, right?”  
“Yeah.” Lory repeated, her voice sounding a lot more hollow than she would have liked. Dean frowned at her as she cleared her throat pensively.  
“Yeah you’re from Lincoln, or yeah you’ve been to Salem?”  
“Oh,” Lory said, “I’m from Lincoln.” She paused. “I’ve been to Salem once… on a school trip.”  
“So you roughly know your way around?” Dean asked.  
“It’s not a big town Dean.”  
“I know.” Dean said. The conversation seemed to be doomed to fail and so he stopped trying. There was a long pause in which Lory stared out of the window. “Bit of a kooky history though.” Dean said, just as silence had settled again. Had he just said ‘kooky’? What was this, Scooby-Doo? Lory looked at him.  
“Do you mean the witch trials?” Lory’s heart was beating fast. Dean nodded.  
“Yeah, heard they were pretty bad.”  
Lory exhaled through her nose in astoundment. “Pretty bad?” Lory said, a hint of her usual self in her words. That self quickly faded, however. “Is that what we’re dealing with? Witches? I mean…” She swallowed, “Bad ones.”  
“Ones who’ve made a deal with the Devil you mean?” Dean asked. Lory shrugged, not sure entirely what she meant. “Yeah, could be.”  
“What did Sam say?” Lory asked. She hoped it wasn’t witches.  
“He just said there have been attempted kidnappings by ‘floating and glowing’ things.” Dean said, distractedly frowning at the dashboard. “What kind of attempted kidnappings?” Lory pushed, but before Dean could reply, the car began to growl under the bonnet. “Sonofa...,” He said, “I need gas.” He squinted at the upcoming sign and began to maneuver the car to take the next exit. Lory looked back out of the window, feeling she knew exactly what disappearances and wishing she had never agreed to the road-trip in the first place, Dean or no Dean. If it was what she thought, how was she going to keep her past from him? She knew he wouldn’t think of her the same way on the other side, that was for sure. Well, she thought, she would just have to make sure that didn’t happen. She would have to ignore her doubt, push it way down deep inside like she did every other day of her life. As they pulled into the garage, she felt almost like her old self and at least hoped she was coming across that way. He didn’t need to know the truth, and if that meant whatever feelings she had for him had to be pushed down too, then so be it. 

Dean emerged from the kiosk, his keys in his hand, to find Lory leaning against the drivers side door. He stopped where he was standing and blinked at her, unsure exactly how to react. Was she really leaning against Baby like that? Lory noticed him and pushed herself off of the Impala, grinning like a vixen.  
“You’ve driven for almost four hours. You should probably take a break. I’d be happy to take it from here.” Lory offered. Dean was dumbstruck.  
“No,” He said, hurrying over to check Baby for marks. “That’s not necessary, I’m fine.” She seemed to be all clear. Lory raised an eyebrow.  
“Scared I’m going to injure your baby?” Lory asked teasingly. “I can drive you know.” Dean caught her eye.  
“No,” he stammered, “Its just… I don’t even let Sam drive her.”  
“I see what’s happening,” Lory folded her arms. “You don’t trust a woman driving.” Her eyes burned into his in a way that made him blush. He shook his head stoically.  
“It’s not that at all,” he argued, though he felt himself losing at a rapid pace. “It’s…”  
“I promise, on my honour, that I’m a good driver.” Lory crossed her fingers in some form of salute. Dean considered long and hard, looking from Lory to Baby and back again. Eventually, and with much pain in his voice, he held the keys out.  
“One scratch,” He warned, pointing an accusatory finger at Lory, “And I’ll never speak to you again.” And with that he stomped around the car to the passenger seat and climbed in. Lory smiled, feeling the keys in her hand and opening the drivers door. She hadn’t driven for years, since… that was a story for another time. “Heaven forbid.” She muttered, lowering herself into the driver’s seat.  
Dean scowled at her from shotgun, his eyes burning into her as she switched on the engine and the Impala purred into life. He discreetly patted Baby’s dash and muttered, “It’s okay Baby, Daddy’s here.” Lory raised an eyebrow at him and giggled.  
“What was that?” She asked.  
“Nothing.” Dean replied, continuing with his scrutinising gaze. Lory chuckled and expertly took control of the Impala. She succeeded in manoeuvring out of the garage and onto the freeway without an incident and Dean swallowed some of his worry, until she reached for the radio. He reached out a hand to stop her but she slapped his fingers away.  
“Driver picks the music.” Lory told him and Dean felt a sting in his pride - it didn’t feel nice being on the receiving end of that comment, and he made a mental note to apologise to Sam - and then another to forget the first mental note. He was relieved, then, when the music Lory chose on the radio was of good taste. Maybe she wasn’t so bad at all, and Baby seemed to be responding well to her touch. Dean settled back in the passenger seat, watching her carefully, but marginally more relaxed than before.  
They drove companionably for quite a while, whilst Dean attempted to do some research from books (like an imbecile, seriously, why did they never have pictures?), before Lory spoke.  
“So, Kansas, huh?” She asked. Dean shut the book gratefully and looked over.  
“What?”  
“Kansas. I’ll bet that was nice.” Lory said, half glancing at him. Dean shifted uncomfortably before putting the books on the backseat.  
“To tell you the truth, I don’t really remember it.” He said, leaning on his arm with his elbow on the door.  
“Oh?”  
“We left when I was four.” Dean said, pulling at a loose thread on the upholstery of the Impala door - funny how he’d never noticed that from the drivers side.  
“Was that when…?” Lory asked, feeling suddenly bad. Dean nodded.  
“Yeah,” He said, picking at the thread more, “It’s when Dad introduced us to the life.”  
“That young?” Lory sounded incredulous. Dean had almost forgotten how odd that must sound to other people.  
“He didn’t tell us for a long time, and he told me before he told Sam,” The thread was coming loose now. “He needed me to know. To protect Sammy.”  
“Sammy?” Lory asked, her eyes glittering. Dean caught himself.  
“He hates being called Sammy.” He explained, lacing his words with ‘please don’t tell him I told you’. Lory seemed to get the message.  
“Still,” Lory glanced at him, “That must have been difficult.”  
“You get used to it, after a while. Motels and takeaways and salt-at-the-door.”  
“At least you had each other?”  
There was a pause.  
“What about you?” Dean decided to change tack and turn it back on her. “How was Massachusetts? Lincoln, right?”  
Lory shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Scenic.” She settled on. She wasn’t ready for Dean to know the truth.  
“You got family?”  
“Somewhere.” There was an uncomfortable silence whilst Dean frowned at her. “I mean, I’ve gotta have a mom and dad, biologically.” Lory glanced at Dean before continuing. “I was left on the doorstep of an orphanage at 2 days old with nothing but a birthday and a name.”  
It was Dean’s turn to feel sorry for her.  
“An orphanage?” He asked, “I had no idea.”  
“Yeah well. I don’t exactly broadcast it, you know?” Lory said. Her voice was small, laced with years of pain.  
“So, you don’t know who you are?” Dean asked before he could stop himself. Lory blinked.  
“I know who I am. I’m Mallory Rebecca Harris, I’m 21 and I’m a para-archeology student.”  
“Right, yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean… I just meant… not knowing your parents? That’s gotta…” Dean tailed off.  
“Suck?” Lory finished for him. She was smiling. “Yeah, kinda. But I got used to it. Learnt to look after myself. Learnt to not need or rely on anyone.”  
Dean raised an eyebrow. Now, more than ever, he was proved right - this was his kind of woman.  
They drove in silence again.  
“You got a girlfriend?” Lory asked out of the blue as they entered Massachusetts. Dean was mostly shocked that she hadn’t asked him this before, all the flirting that had been going on.  
“What?” Dean asked, taken aback.  
“Your line of work,” Lory continued, blushing, “I bet it doesn’t lend itself much to solid relationships, huh?”  
“Er,” Dean started, “Not so much. I had a girlfriend, few years ago. She found out what I did and ran a mile.” Dean paused, thinking back on it. “I’m not really a girlfriend-boyfriend-breakfast-in-bed-cuddles-and-feelings type person.”  
“So you’re more of a one night stand type person?” She prompted, remembering the conversation they had held about the amount of people he had been with.  
“I guess.” Dean frowned. It was like she was holding a mirror up to him and he didn’t like it. “What’s with these questions?”  
“Sorry.” Lory said. “I like to know people.” Dean glanced at her, sure he could see a half-smile on her lips. To Lory this meant one thing: He was single.  
“What about you then?” Dean asked, reclaiming his masculinity, “You got someone?”  
“Not really girlfriend material.” Lory replied, tightening her grip on the steering wheel as her smile faded. “I’ve got a lot of trust issues.” She said.  
“You and me both.” Dean looked out of the window as the radio turned to Foreigner. Despite her flaws it meant one very important thing to Dean: she was single. Lory glanced at him, before looking back out the windscreen again, wondering if she would ever be able to let go of her past. It appeared, especially en route to the seat of her secrets, that she never would.

****

Salem, Massachusetts. 

The Impala pulled onto the main street of Salem, a quaint town full of dead red trees and square red buildings, and Dean found himself impressed with the way in which Lory had handled her. Not that he’d make it a regular thing, but he was impressed all the same. She pulled into a free parking space and turned the engine off.  
“I do okay?” Lory asked, handing him back the keys. Dean nodded, his lips pursed.  
“I’m not completely ready to kill you, so I’d say that’s a yes.” He replied. Lory smiled, but her smile faded quickly as she looked out the window. Dean looked out too. “You seemed to know a good place to park.” He said, frowning at her. Lory shrugged.  
“MA towns are usually built like this.” She replied, hoping against hope that it wasn’t clear that she was lying. Dean squinted through the windows.  
“There’s a cafe up ahead,” He said. “Smack dab in the middle of the town, that seems a good place to start.”  
“They do good coffee.” Lory said, without thinking. She shut her eyes tight, cursing herself.  
“You know?” Dean asked, frowning. Lory blinked and swallowed.  
“It’s a chain. MA specific.” Lory lied, and opened the door to climb out before he could ask anymore questions. She was certain her tongue was going to turn black soon. Dean frowned but thought better of it, pulled an FBI ID out of the glove compartment, and opened the door. Getting out of the passenger seat was beyond weird. He pocketed the keys and vowed he would be driving in future, no matter how good she was at it or how much he (stupidly) wanted to indulge her.  
Lory shrugged on her coat, looked around the street warily, and began to walk in the direction of the cafe. It was getting on for late afternoon here and she was getting hungry. She knew she needed to keep her mouth shut, though, or pretty soon he’d know everything. 

Ten minutes later they were sitting across from each other in a booth in the cafe-cum-diner with Sam’s laptop open in front of them and an array of local newspapers spread out on the tabletop. Lory had let Dean go up and order, worried she might be recognised, and watched in awe as he had FBIed his way to a free meal and wifi. She wondered why he had been wearing a monkey-suit, but now she understood. Her heart fluttered everytime she looked at him in it, too. Boy cleaned up good.  
“Okay, so,” Dean said. “Sam sent me all this stuff.” He gestured at the laptop, breaking Lory out of her thoughts. “The attempted kidnapping of a little girl. Her mum refuses to talk to anyone else once the police got the facts, says it’s too traumatic for the kid.” “Are we sure it’s not just an attempted kidnapping and not anything to do with the supernatural?” Lory asked, keeping her voice low. “Sam says not.”  
“How does he know?” Lory asked.  
“A feeling.” Dean smiled gratefully as the waitress brought over a big plate of pie.  
“Does Sam get these feelings often?” Lory asked, watching Dean fill his mouth with it.  
“Sometimes.” Dean said.  
Lory raised an eyebrow at him and opened up a visitors map of the town. “Schools here,” She said, pointing. “Did Sam find an address for the victim?”  
Dean pointed at the email on the screen.  
“That’s here.” Lory said, pointing it out. Dean frowned at her speed but thought better of it and shrugged it off as he noticed Lory was staring in horror at the map.  
“What is it?” He asked.  
“It goes passed…” Lory tailed off, swallowed hard, and continued. “Parris Church.” She said, pointing it out.  
“Parris as in Samuel Parris?” Dean asked. Lory nodded. “So we’re talking witch trials then?”  
“It’s Salem.” Lory said. “What else is there.” She bit her thumbnail, something Dean realised she did when she was nervous.  
“Lory,” He said, swallowing the pie and preparing for a difficult conversation. “Are you sure you’ve only been here the one time?” He asked. Lory met his eye, blinked, and looked away again like a child who’s been caught. She broke into a wide and not-all-that-realistic smile.  
“I’m sure.” She said. “Just the once.” It wasn’t a complete lie. After all, she’d never come back. Until now, that is.  
Dean wasn’t convinced. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at her. “So this church,” He said. “Good place to start?”  
“Good as any.” Lory replied, finishing her coffee.  
“Why is it always when I’ve just got my pie?” Dean said sulkily, shovelling a mouthful in. Lory giggled at him as she sipped her coffee. “What?” He asked defensively, his mouth full.  
“That’ll be why you’re unable to keep a girlfriend.” Lory said, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Pie comes first.” She broke a piece of the crust off and nibbled it as Dean watched her delicate teeth. He swallowed.  
“Pie always comes first.” Dean replied. Lory laughed, forgetting for a second the shadow of her past. They locked eyes in a way that made Dean wonder just how much longer pie would come first. 

****

The Impala pulled into the churchyard just as the church clock struck 6pm. Dean got out of it quickly but Lory seemed reluctant. This place was shadowed in secrets she would rather stay a secret. Dean knocked on the window, gesturing for her to get a move on. Lory put the box of takeaway pie on her knee onto the seat and reluctantly opened the door. She climbed out, her head suddenly flaring with pain as she looked up at the church.  
“You’re okay in churchyards, right?” Dean asked, opening the gate for her. Lory hesitated, folding her arms and kneading her temple.  
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She asked, knowing his answer already.  
“You know,” He said, “The whole witch thing?” Lory blinked at him. Yhup, that’s what he was going to say.  
“I’m fine.” Lory said, far from it, as she stepped through the gate to prove her point. “I just don’t like graveyards. ” She said, looking around. “They give me the heebie-jeebies. Especially since we burned those bones last week.” She kneaded her head again as it pulsed painfully. She hadn’t had headaches like this for years. She hadn’t even indulged this part of her for years… yet here she was. Dean was frowning at her.  
“You alright?” Dean asked. Lory smiled reassuringly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.  
“Yes,” Lory lied, “Will you stop asking me that?”  
“Alright,” Dean said, frowning still. “Sorry.” He squinted around the churchyard. “Cheery place.” He remarked sarcastically. Lory glanced at him and then stepped forwards onto the path. She could feel it starting inside her, and she didn’t want it to. Dean surged on ahead, peering around in the slowly gathering darkness. He could make out an odd shape in the centre of the churchyard, with no graves anywhere near it in a steady radius. He nodded at Lory as if to say ‘let’s check it out’. Lory hung back a few steps behind him as they approached the shape.  
Lory knew exactly what it was.  
It was a well, and not the wishing well type that might be found in fairytales, but the gnarled and twisted type that comes from black magic. Dean went to step up to it but something inside Lory made her grab his arm.  
“Don’t go any closer.” She begged before she could stop herself.  
“What?” He asked. Lory was looking in terror at the well, blind panic rising up inside her. She was rapidly losing her senses. It was happening again. This place…  
Dean frowned at her, standing in front of her. She had eyes only for the well and the darkness it was emitting. “Hey.” He said, concerned, stepping in front of her. “Hey, what’s going on?” Lory shook her head. Her headache was threatening to split her skull, and what was more… she could hear them again. After so long. Dean was alarmed by the sudden change in her persona.  
“Please don’t go near it.” She begged. Dean looked to the well. To him it was just a plain stone well, but the panic it was causing in Lory was enough to persuade him. He nodded, seeing her weakness for the first time.  
“Alright.” He said. He looked to the well again and then back to Lory. “We’ll check it out tomorrow. Okay? We’ve had a long drive.”  
Lory didn’t look convinced. She wasn’t looking at him, just staring at the well.  
“Let’s find a hotel.” He said, gesturing for Lory to return to the car. Lory met his eye for the first time, but quickly glanced in fear back at the well. She let Dean guide her back to the car, his hands firm on her arms. She would hate herself for showing such weakness but her head was preventing her from saying or doing anything but what he told her, and the voices...


	10. Episode 3: Salem's Lot (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lory and Dean check into Salem, MA and try to make sense of the case.

By the time they had reached a motel she had recovered from the headache and managed to regain control, back to her old self. She had put her weird turn down as to the headache she was fighting which seemed to have completely faded now, or so she told Dean. He was going to think she was crazy and he had only just stopped being wary of her dabbling with magick. Dean was more than slightly concerned about the sudden turn of events, but she didn’t want to talk about it and so he didn’t mention it. Lory felt her normal self again now she was away from the graveyard.  
The woman behind the desk seemed nice enough, blue-rinse perm and biscuit-crumb-caked mouth aside. She smiled warmly. “You kids on a romantic getaway?” She asked, looking from Dean to Lory and back again, weighing up their appearance as a couple. Lory smiled up at Dean and leant coyly on the desk, waiting for him to answer. This should be good. He looked from her to the woman and back again.   
“Er,” He cleared his throat awkwardly, “We’re not a couple.” He said eventually, disappointingly. Lory rolled her eyes. He could have at least played along.  
“Oh,” The woman looked embarrassed. “Sorry.”   
“It’s alright,” Lory stepped in, “We’re just friends. He wants it but he can’t have it.” She winked at him. “Besides, I’m way out of his league.” She put her credit card on the desk. Dean looked down at it and then at Lory, frowning. He wasn’t used to a woman taking charge. The woman behind the desk chuckled.   
“How long will you be staying with us?” She asked, typing the details into the computer. She paused when she saw the name as though she recognised it, and Lory momentarily freaked out. She forgot how small this town was. Thankfully, the woman said nothing.   
“Indefinitely.” Dean replied. The woman looked at him, frowning, and he gave her his most charming smile.   
“Very well.” The woman said, looking back at the screen. She frowned. “Oh,” She said, “I’m sorry. All of our twin rooms are booked out. We’ve only double left.”   
“We could always try somewhere else,” Dean suggested, looking at Lory, his heart beating quickly.   
“That’s okay,” Lory interrupted quickly. Dean looked at her. She chuckled. “Don’t look so alarmed, you know two people of the opposite sex can share a bed without it being sexual, right?”   
Dean narrowed his eyes. ‘Sure’, he thought, ‘It’s no fun though.’.   
“We’ll take whatever you have.” Lory said to the woman, smiling. She was leaning on the desk with both elbows and Dean was resisting the urge to inspect her from behind. It was an instinct. The woman behind the desk looked alarmed at the prospect, but clicked the screen nonetheless. Dean allowed himself a quick glance before clearing his throat and checking his cell for messages. None, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to cope with this ‘living like brother and sister’ thing when all he wanted was... The woman pushed Lory’s credit card back to her and added the room key on top.  
“Room 309,” The woman said, gesturing down the corridor. “Take the stairs.” Lory took them gratefully and smiled at her.   
“Thanks.” She said, pushing herself off the surface and picking up her backpack. “Come on darling.” She beckoned to Dean, jokingly. Dean picked up his own bag and followed her, bewitched, down the corridor. Lory turned to him as they reached the stairs, stopping him in his tracks. “Sure you’re going to manage to share a bed?” She asked.   
“Alright, alright. I’m not that hot-blooded.” Dean said, not even convincing himself. She grinned at him.   
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She teased.   
“There’ll be nothing to judge.” Dean replied, his mouth dry, gesturing for her to carry on up the stairs. She giggled and did as she was bid. Dean watched her climb the steps in front of him. ‘I can’t make any promises’, he thought. 

****  
Dean lounged on the bed in his jeans and t-shirt, flicking through the channels. He was aching to take his jeans off and pulled longingly at his waist-band, cursing Sam for making him bunk with a girl - never mind a girl Dean actually had a crush on. Since when had he become a soppy teenager. He could hear her in the bathroom doing whatever voodoo it was that girls did just before they went to bed. He couldn’t stand it any longer. He stood up to take off his belt and had just undone the top button when the bathroom door opened and Lory entered the room. Dean was struck dumb in the middle of unbuttoning his jeans. She was wearing only an oversized t-shirt and a short pair of shorts, her bare legs fully on display. They were tanned and toned despite living in Delaware. Dean watched her as she stood on tiptoe to put her toothbrush back into the bag up on the shelf. He caught a glint of a belly-button piercing as she did so, fashioned like a dream catcher. Her long silver hair was in one loose plait over one shoulder and - Dean’s heart skipped a beat - the t-shirt she was wearing was Motorhead. She had taken her makeup off but she was still the most beautiful creature Dean had ever seen. He could really see the freckles standing out on her nose. Lory looked over at him watching her.   
“What?” She asked, defensively folding her arms as if they covered everything she had on display. She was unashamed of her body, he would give her that.  
“Nothing.” Dean said, realising where his hands were, on his buttons, and hastily folding his arms too.   
Lory raised an amused eyebrow. “You’re about as subtle as a drunk in church.” She giggled and flung herself down on the bed, lying on her stomach with her legs bent and in the air. Dean tried not to look at her shapely legs, nor think about how badly he wanted to stroke her soft skin. One of her shoulders was poking out of the neckhole of her t-shirt, showing her tattoo clearly.   
“I don’t know what you mean.” Dean said, realising it had taken him a long time to answer. He cursed himself internally. Smooth. Lory giggled and rolled over on to her back, her leg cocked and her arms up behind her head. She was looking at him, her hair coming loose from the braid already. He could get used to that sight in bed. No, Dean. No.   
“Do you want me to change?” She asked as though reading his mind. Dean swallowed and forced himself to look away from her.   
“No?” He said. “Why would I?” He laid down awkwardly on the bed beside her.  
Lory giggled and pulled at the comforter.   
“Move over Kansas,” She said, sliding under the covers with one leg bent on the outside. She closed her eyes as she attempted to get comfortable. Dean dared look at her just as her eyes snapped open. He looked away again and at whatever crap was on television. “You don’t snore, do you?” She asked. Why was she acting like this was the most normal arrangement in the world? Dean was struck by a sudden thought: did she not feel the same way about him that he felt about her?  
“Do you?” He asked in retaliation. Lory grinned, doing that cute nose twitch thing that she was prone to, and closed her eyes again.   
“If you do,” She said, “I’ll kick you out of bed.”   
Dean had heard that phrase many-a-time, but never had it felt as threatening. He really didn’t want to be kicked out of bed by her. Ever. Lory was quiet for a few moments and Dean started to think she had fallen asleep. He pulled uncomfortably at the waistband of his jeans again.   
“You can take them off, you know.” Lory said. Dean looked at her in alarm - her eyes were still closed. “I have enough willpower to not jump your bones just because your legs are out.” She smiled. Dean really wanted to come out with a quality comeback but, as always when it came to Lory, his mind had gone to mush. He shrugged it off and stood up again to remove his jeans. Lory smirked slightly, her eyes still closed. Dean scanned her leg and the way her body fit around the cover and decided to go the whole-hog and take his t-shirt off too. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted to achieve except perhaps she might accidentally touch his skin and fall as helplessly in love with him as he… No. He wasn’t in love. He had never been in love. So how do you know you’re not? his mind asked him. He grunted to shut it up and slid under the covers in simply his boxers and flicked off the television, feeling like he had at least achieved that in this state of uncertainty.   
There was a long pause as Dean sat up in bed, staring at any part of the room except Lory.   
“Are you gonna get the light?” She asked, her eyes still closed. Dean jumped, thinking she had really fallen asleep, and obliged, flicking the light off. There was a moment in darkness while he slid down to lie in the bed, feeling as rigid as if it were a coffin. He didn’t want to accidentally touch her for fear of… he didn’t know exactly. He closed his eyes.   
“Looking good, Kansas.” Lory whispered. His eyes snapped open again. He couldn’t see her in the darkness, and he wasn’t sure she could see him either, but he clenched his pecs all the same. The resulting soft giggle from Lory’s side of the bed proved his theory. She was checking him out, that was for sure. Maybe she did feel the same. Dean smiled to himself in the darkness. At least this whole thing wasn’t one sided as he had feared.   
Less than 20 minutes later Lory opened her eyes. She listened to the soft snoring of Dean’s slumber - he was laid on his back rigidly as though afraid to touch her accidentally - and found herself unable to sleep. Her mind was racing. Despite her bravado she couldn’t help but think back to the graveyard and the splitting headache she had suffered. She couldn’t afford to let herself go back to the way she was last time she was in this town. She couldn’t afford for Dean to know about it. Why had she let herself come back? Why hadn’t she just said no and left it at that?   
She knew why as she looked at him beside her. His face was so soft when he slept, all of the hard lines he created when awake faded.   
She was an imbécile pour l’amour.   
That was why.   
She sighed and rolled herself out of bed, crossing to the small table and flicking on the lamp. If she wasn’t going to sleep for thoughts she may as well be productive.

Lory was woken by the sound of the shower and the muffled sound of male singing. She had climbed back into bed in the early hours and was still in the position she had fallen asleep in, one side stiff and sore from being compacted. Taking the opportunity, Lory swung her legs out of bed, stretched, and pulled her bag towards her. She glanced over her shoulder at the bathroom door and concluded she had time to get dressed openly. Sure enough, she was just pulling the hem of her dress down as the bathroom door clicked open and Dean entered the room. He was wearing his usual jeans-and-t-shirt combo and his hair was damp. Lory raised an eyebrow in admiration but said nothing.   
“Morning,” He said, shrugging his shirt on, “Ready for today?” Lory nodded.   
“Coffee first.” She said, zipping up her boot.   
“Naturally.” Dean said. He paused, frowning at her. “How’s your head?” He perched on the bed to pull his own boots on.   
“Better.” She said, smiling to prove the point. She felt far from it but was determined to remain positive. She zipped up the second boot and got to her feet, pulling her hair from its braid so it swung over her shoulders. It cascaded in waves and Dean watched in awe as she twirled an end and suddenly had an entirely new hairdo.   
At least with silver hair she wouldn’t be recognised, she thought. She was determined to prove to Dean she was a worthy hunt partner. She made for the door, tossing him his keys as she did. 

****  
Salem had hardly changed since she had last been here. They went for breakfast in the same diner they had stopped in yesterday with black coffee and breakfast: bacon for Dean, egg for Lory. She raised her eyebrow but said nothing as he devoured it like a lion with a kill. He noticed her watching him and cleared his throat, so used to being with Sam who couldn’t care less about his table manners. Lory chuckled and looked down at the newspaper clipping in front of her about the missing girl. Her heart leapt as she read the words and she swallowed hard, her mouth dry.  
“So, we talking to family today?” Dean asked as he swallowed his mouthful.  
“That’ll be a bit hard unless you have a talking board.” She said quietly. She pushed the article towards Dean and he leaned forward to read where Lory’s painted nails were pointing.   
“She was an orphan?” Dean asked with a nervous glance to Lory. He swallowed and pushed his plate away, sensing she might find this difficult.  
“Raised by the state.” Lory cleared her throat and looked out the window, trying not to lose herself in her own past. Dean waited, his jaw clenched, for her to look back at him again. She did so with a forced lipsticked smile, embracing the case and forgetting her own predicament.   
“So we talk to the orphanage.” Dean concluded. Lory gasped a little and shook her head.   
“I don’t think we need to.” She cleared her throat again to cover her gasp and pulled out a small notebook. Dean frowned at it. “I couldn’t sleep last night,” Dean’s eyes-widened a little, realising he probably had his ass out or something, “So I went over Sam’s notes.” Dean was a little impressed, once he got over his fear. “Mostly about the well.” She swallowed hard and pushed the notebook towards him too. “He had researched right back to 1690 when the well was built.”  
“1690? That’s...”  
“Two years before the witch trials.”   
Dean frowned a little at her, wondering why she knew so much about the trials. He figured it was probably part of her practice and he returned to the notes. Her handwriting was small and compact, unlike Sam’s untidy scrawl. Easier to read. “So the well had something to do with it, do you think?”  
“That well... I tell you Dean. It’s evil.”  
“How do you know?” He made a face and lowered his voice like he was asking about an illness, “A witch thing?”  
“It’s not like a disease, Dean.” She laughed a little at his expression. “Read the notes. I’m going to the ladies.” She excused herself before he could argue. She felt weird again. Just thinking about her headache the night before was making her feel sick. She hadn’t felt like that for so long. Dean watched her leave with concern on his face before turning back to her notes. The well had been built in 1690 and periodically for the first few years children would go missing near it. She had written a note with a question mark next to this fact: Friday 13th?   
Dean looked down at his watch to check the date: Thursday 12th. Lory seemed to think that whatever it was that was going to happen was linked to Friday 13th: tomorrow. He read back over her notes from the disappearances that had happened over the years, feverishly flicking through as he grew more and more agitated by the findings.   
In the ladies room Lory splashed her face with water and told herself to pull it together. More and more she felt coming back to Salem was a mistake. No matter how close she wanted to get to Dean, how much she wanted to prove herself to him and to herself, the more she felt she should leave. She looked at herself in the mirror and shook her head. No. She couldn’t run from her past forever as much as she hated to admit it, this place was her past. Salem was in her blood and she couldn’t run forever. She twitched her shirt and tidied her hair and headed back out of the bathroom.   
Dean greeted her by pushing her notes back at her with his finger pointed to a series of dates Lory had circled. “What are these?”  
Lory looked at them. In her own handwriting was a list of years.   
“They’re years.” She said quietly.   
“I can see that. Why are they significant?” Dean pressed.  
“They’re all the years Friday 13th has fallen in October.”   
“And these...” Dean pointed to the ones that were circled in red pen: 1690, 1809, 1843, 1876, 1905, 1950, 1978, 1989, 1995. 2006. “The ten with rings around. What are they?”  
“Years kids have gone missing.” Lory replied.  
“Sam found these?” Dean asked in a slightly astounded voice. Sometimes he marvelled at his brothers skills... but then Lory shook her head and he frowned at her.   
“No.” Lory said quietly. “I did.”   
“You did? Just like that you knew to look for them?”  
“It’s just a pattern.” Lory shook her head.   
“No, Lory. This is more than a pattern. The fact you knew to look for it.” He was watching her carefully. “This...” He pointed to a name next to the year 1995. “Beatrice? She was the victim?”   
Lory let out a ragged gasp that she couldn’t control. Dean raised an eyebrow as he looked at her. Lory cleared her throat. “Yes.” She replied quietly. “There was a newspaper report...” She wasn’t even convincing herself.   
“Lory.” Dean pushed the notebook to one side and inclined his head so Lory was forced to meet his eye. “I’m not stupid. I know you’ve been hiding something from me. Why do you know all this?”   
Lory looked away from him, her hand over her mouth as she tried to think what to say. She couldn’t lie to him. She met his eye and sighed heavily, raggedly. “I lied to you.” She said, and Dean frowned at her, his brow furrowed and lines prominently standing out. She seemed to be finding the explanation and he waited for her to form the words. When she spoke it was barely audible and each word was spoken slowly, as though the words physically hurt. “I was born in Salem.” She said. Dean’s eyes widened. “Grew up in the Parris Church Home for Girls.” She let out a small sob. It was the first time Dean had seen her crumble like this. She wiped her eyes angrily and took a deep breath in. “Beatrice was a friend of mine, we grew up together. She disappeared when I was eleven on her way home from school. On Friday 13th October 1995.” She finished by meeting his eye.   
Dean sat back in his chair. He knew she was guarded and that she had secrets, but he would never have thought she was closer to this case than he could have thought. He reached out over the table and took her hand. Lory swallowed and looked at their clasped fingers. His hands were rough and scarred, the result of years of fighting. Hers were significantly softer and more delicate. He wore a ring on his middle finger that dug in slightly as he squeezed her hand. She didn’t care, it was nice to feel him comfort her so.   
“Do you wanna go home? You’re too close to this, I understand if you do.” He said kindly.   
Lory swallowed hard and scanned his face. She thought about the turn she had taken yesterday and all of the memories of Beatrice that had come bubbling to the surface. She needed to put a stop to it before it happened to someone else. She shook her head.   
“No. You need me here.”  
“I can handle it...” Dean started but Lory put her other hand down hard on the table.   
“No. I have to do this. For Beatrice.” Her nostrils flared in determination, “I can’t just run away from my past.” She sniffed hard and cleared her throat. “What are we sitting here for? We should talk to the kids parents.”   
Dean was a little taken aback by her sudden change in persona. She had to be the strongest woman he had ever met. “The police said they won’t speak to anyone else. No feds, nothing.” He said dumbly.   
“They’ll speak to child counsellors.” Lory said with that sparkle back in her eye. She hesitated before pulling her hand from his grip and pulling her notebook towards her. “Follow my lead.” She smiled at him and he looked at her with a pained expression on his face. He felt a weird sensation in his stomach unlike anything he had ever felt before. A kind of jolt that felt like his stomach and his heart had collided. He felt sick and dizzy all at once.   
So that’s what falling in love felt like. 

****  
Driving around Salem was just like driving round any small-time American town. Dean had gotten used to them by now and he had imagined Salem would be different, what with all the legends and all. He glanced worriedly at Lory as she sat slumped against the window watching the old-timey houses go by, mixed with modern garages and stores. He couldn’t deal with her constant yo-yoing between herself and her memories. He hoped she could pull it together when the time was needed. She had given him basic instructions to the suburban street where the victim lived but then had not spoken since.   
“Are you gonna be okay?” He asked her as he turned the Impala down the designated side-street into suburban hell.   
“Yeah. Course.” Lory said with a small smile to him.   
“I can take you back to the motel if you want. I can handle this alone.”  
“No, I have to do this Dean and you just gotta trust that I’ll be okay.” She chuckled lightly to herself. “You don’t deal with women much, huh?”  
He frowned. “What’s that got to do with it?”  
“Mood swings are a thing Dean. Just trust me.” She wrinkled her nose in the way that he liked and he nodded.   
“I do trust you.” He said.   
“Good. Pull over here.” She gestured at a space to the left. “The house is just up there.” She looked him up and down. “Any chance you got a sweater in the back?”  
“A sweater?”  
“The trucker-jacket, flannel combo screams more trailer-trash than child counsellor.”   
Dean looked down at himself, offended. “Women dig it.”  
“I can see why,” She said with a small smile, “But if you want the parents to let us in you need a sweater.” He looked her up and down.  
“What about you, huh? No child counsellor I know wears clothes that tight.”  
“You sure about that?” Lory giggled. “I have a cardigan in my bag. You’ll be surprised how much sin a cardigan can cover. Why do you think teachers wear ‘em?”  
She chuckled and let herself out of the shotgun seat, opening the back door to pull a cardigan out of her bag. She pulled out a pair of glasses too and Dean, getting out of the car himself, frowned.   
“You have glasses?”  
“Not all of us have 20/20 vision, Kansas.” She hitched them up her nose, “And some of us like to read sometimes.”  
Dean filed it into the ever-extending folder entitled ‘things I don’t know about Lory’ and tried not to be turned on by the transformation of her in front of him. He dug through Sam’s abandoned bags in the back of the Impala and pulled out a sweater. It swamped him just a little due to Sam being so much bigger than him in every way, but it looked endearing judging by the smile Lory was giving him.  
“Suits you.” She said. Dean felt naked without his flannel.  
Dean grumbled and then realised, “I don’t have ID for counselling.”  
Lory frowned, thinking for a moment, and then shook her head. “Believe me, we won’t need it.” She pulled her pentagram necklace from around her neck and, as Dean looked discreetly away, tucked it into her bra. She looked down at herself to check her tattoos were covered and loosened her hair so it flowed in a half-up, half-down and covered the word behind her ear. Dean had been meaning to ask her why it said ‘Listen’, but the time hadn’t come up.   
“So you’re good with kids, right?”  
“You sound surprised.” Lory frowned a little at him. “I grew up in a church home, Dean. All we had was each other. You learn to be good with kids when they look to you for guidance just because you’re older and you’ve been there longer.” The ghosts of her past flashed over her face and Dean felt that tug on his heart again. Lory shook her head and forced a smile. “Ready?” She asked, and headed off in the direction of the house before Dean could argue. He followed numbly and prayed she was right about the ID. In his experience parents were very distrusting. Lory had rung the doorbell on the middle-class mansion before Dean quite reached her. She looked him over and then turned with a smile as the door opened.   
A middle aged woman with a frown on her face looked at them both standing there.  
“Hi, Mrs Henderson?” Lory said, instantly on the charm offensive, “My name is Kathleen and this is my associate Harry.”   
“Hi.” Dean said with a dry smile as he blinked at the charisma oozing from Lory. This was not the first time she had lied to get what she wanted, that much was no clear.  
“Can I help you?” Mrs Henderson asked.  
“We’ve been sent by the police who handled your daughters,” She tailed off, thinking for the right word, “Incident. We’re here to talk to her, see how she’s doing.”   
“I told the police I didn’t want...” Mrs Henderson started but Lory reached out and put a hand on her arm. Instantly a change washed over the woman’s face: she softened, and Dean was amazed and a little scared.  
“I know. But they think it’s best for your daughter if she could talk about it with somebody not in a uniform?” Lory put her head on one side and Dean wondered just how powerful Lory really was. There was a pause as the woman seemed to fight with her inner thoughts, and then she nodded and Lory released her arm.  
“Come in.” She stepped out of the way to show them through. Lory gave Dean a look of triumph and followed Mrs Henderson inside.   
“Gabriella is upstairs. I’ll just go and get her. Make yourself at home.” Mrs Henderson gestured to the living room on their left. The house was large enough for a family of three and everything had a place. There was very little sign that a child even lived here. Mrs Henderson hurried up the stairs and Lory led Dean into the living room. As they entered Dean did a quick EMF sweep as was protocol. Concluding nothing he settled himself on the couch beside Lory, both of them on the edge. Lory looked around.   
“These houses all look the same.” She said with a sigh. There was more to the story there but Dean was saved asking by the stairs creaking and Mrs Henderson returning. She was accompanied by her daughter. The photo of the victim had been kept out of the newspapers by the parents request, but Gabriella Henderson was just like any typical eleven year old. Lory smiled warmly at her as she was encouraged in by her mother and waited for them to sit on the couch opposite.   
“Hi Gabriella.” Lory said warmly. Dean let her take the lead on this. She oozed confidence and kindness much more than he would anyway. “My name is Kathleen and this is my colleague Harry.” Dean was impressed she had remembered their fake names, he’d almost forgotten already. “We’re here to talk with you about what happened the other day if that’s alright.” Everything in Lory’s body language was child-friendly and welcoming. Gabriella looked nervously at her mother but before Mrs Henderson could speak Lory spoke for her. “It’s alright. Your Mom thinks it’s okay. You need to talk about what happened.” Lory shot Dean a quick look that read ‘did you catch that?’ and he nodded minutely at her.   
“I... I already spoke to the cops.” Gabriella replied quietly. Her words sounded like they had been spoon fed to her.   
“I know sweetie,” Lory inched forwards in her seat so as to appeal to the child more. “But we’d like to hear it in your words.”   
Gabriella faltered, glancing at her mother again. Her mothers expression was empty to anyone inexperienced but Lory recognised the dullness behind her eyes instantly. This was the face of a woman in control. One glance around the perfect home could confirm this. Lory racked her brains. Normally women this house proud knew how to treat guests. It was hardwired into their code. Lory gave Gabriella a warm smile and then turned to Mrs Henderson. Her voice was firm and authoritative.   
“How about a cup of tea, Mrs Henderson?” She suggested as though it was a command. Mrs Henderson hesitated, fighting her coding, but then nodded.   
“I’ll be right back sweetie.” She said to Gabriella as she rose from the couch, “You don’t have to say anything until I get back.” There it was, the control. Lory made out as though she was itching her cheek on her shoulder but in the movement her eyes met Dean’s and she shot him a look that he instantly understood. He marvelled at just how easily he and Lory worked together, and then got to his feet.   
“I’ll give you a hand, shall I?” Dean accompanied a flustered Mrs Henderson from the room before she could argue. Lory waited a few seconds and then moved even further forwards in her seat. Gabriella looked worriedly around for her mother before looking at Lory. Something about Lory’s smile made her feel at ease. Lory blinked and centred herself. If ever there was a time for the powers that she was suppressing, it was now.  
“I assure you that we’re only here to help.” She thought carefully about her words, reading Gabriella’s aura. She was out of practice but her powers were as strong as ever: especially in this town. “I understand if you don’t want to relive it, Gabriella.” Lory said warmly, “But it must be eating you alive. Something like that, you can’t keep it locked up.”   
A single tear rolled down Gabriella’s cheek and Lory changed tack.   
“Do you enjoy school?”  
Gabriella nodded.  
“You do? What’s your favourite subject.”  
“Art.” Gabriella whispered.   
“Really? Mine too. What do you like about it?”  
“That it’s all my imagination. There’s no right or wrong.” Gabriella said. Her words, again, did not belong to her. Lory thought about her time back in the home when she had been the only one who could calm the younger kids. She took a deep breath.   
“That’s right. There is no wrong. It can be whatever you want.” Lory nodded with a smile, “And you walk to school?” Gabriella instantly looked scared so Lory quickly added, “That must be beautiful. All those trees on the walk, especially this time of year? All those colours.”   
Gabriella nodded, her eyes brighter than Lory had seen them. “The red leaves are my favourite.” Gabriella said. Lory nodded, urging her on subtly. “Theres one tree on the walk that’s my favourite.”  
“Why is that?”  
“There’s so many colours. So many shades of red. I like to draw it. My teacher says she loves when I draw the tree.” Gabriella suddenly lit up completely, “I can show you!” She got to her feet and hurried to the mahogany desk, returning and sitting directly beside Lory with a folder of art. She spilled the drawings out over the coffee table, messing her mothers tidy space. The drawings were all of the same tree. It was gnarled and twisted with a black trunk and angry looking fingers. The leaves hanging on it were, as Gabriella had said, shades of red from blood to apple. Lory knew she had seen it before and her heart leapt as she recognised it. She swallowed, her mouth dry, and forced the smile again as she picked up the nearest drawing.   
“It sounds beautiful. I’d love to see it. Where is it?” She looked down at Gabriella who faltered.   
“The graveyard.” Her smile faded and she gathered up her drawings again, pushing them back into the folder. Lory kept hold of one of them.   
“Parris graveyard?” Lory said delicately. Gabriella nodded, terrified again. Lory had to be careful. “That’s where it happened? By this tree?” Gabriella nodded again. Lory looked at the drawing and swallowed hard again. “Gabriella. Did you see what it was that got you?”   
“The floating lady.” Gabriella whispered.  
“Floating?” Lory was almost whispering back at her.   
Gabriella nodded.   
“Did the floating lady hurt you?”   
Gabriella shook her head. “Just grabbed me and pulled me down. Her eyes...” Gabriella shuddered. “I can’t.”   
Lory put down the drawing and turned to Gabriella intensely. She was so close.   
“Does this lady give you nightmares, Gabriella? Is that why you don’t want to talk about it?” Gabriella nodded slowly. Lory sighed and thought hard about what to say. “I know how to make those nightmares go away.”   
“You do?” Gabriella sniffled and wiped her nose. Her eyes were big and appealing as she looked at Lory.   
“Yes. You see, my partner and I, we’re not just counsellors. You see, we hunt nightmares. Ones that want to hurt children.” Lory suddenly remembered having this very conversation with... that didn’t matter now.   
“You do?”  
“Yes. And we can stop whatever it was that tried to get you, that gave you nightmares. But you need to tell me everything you can remember.”  
“I was walking home from school. Daddy can’t pick me up on Mondays, so I walk. And I always go to the tree and draw another picture. I had just finished it when this woman appeared. She was floating off the ground and she had a long black cloak and her eyes were... they were red. And her face was...” Gabriella began to sob and leant against Lory. Lory instinctively wrapped her arms around the child and comforted her as best she could. She didn’t need to hear anymore. She knew what they had to do.   
“Gabby?” Mrs Henderson came back into the room with Dean close behind her and a tray of tea in her hand. She slammed the tray down and hurried to Gabriella, who jumped and moved as far away from Lory as she could. Mrs Henderson pulled her daughter into an embrace and glared at Lory. “I’d like you to get out.” She looked between Lory and Dean. “Out of my house. Out!” She shouted the last word and Lory scurried to her feet, grabbing the drawing as she did, and stood beside Dean in the hall. Dean pulled the door open as Lory turned back to look at where Gabriella was looking at her over her mothers shoulder.   
“I promise Gabby, we’re gonna make the nightmares go away.” She gave the child one last warm smile before hurrying out of the hall and down onto the street.   
“Well that was intense.” Dean said as they walked swiftly back to the Impala. “I tell you that mom is ten shades of loopy. Poor kid has been through the ringer. No freedom, so many rules. Dad’s hardly ever in so mom rules the roost and she does so with an iron fist... and bleach. I tell you, not a speck of dirt anywhere. That’s got to be one unhappy kid.” He looked worriedly at Lory over the Impala roof as they reached it. “Hey. You get that impression?”  
Lory nodded.   
“Maybe that’s it. Unhappy kids.”   
Lory met his eye, her face intense. “We have to go back to the well.”   
“You sure you’re up for that?” He looked at Lory’s shining eyes, concerned.  
“We have to make the nightmares stop, Dean.” And she wrenched open the door to the Impala and climbed inside. Dean sighed and followed suit, hoping she was strong enough for what was ahead. Hoping they both were.


	11. Episode 3: Salem's Lot (Pt. 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean learns secrets about Lory. They learn how to deal with the threat in Salem.

The graveyard was no less creepy in the daylight. Parris church was off the beaten path and school had long since kicked out so there was not a soul in sight. Dean got out of the Impala first and armed himself with whatever he could think of that could deal with the ‘floating black-cloaked, red-eyed nightmare’ that Gabriella Henderson had described. Lory took a moment to compose herself. Dean watched through the back window as she pulled her necklace back out of her bra and looked at it, muttering something under her breath and kissing it lightly before reattaching it around her neck. He frowned but said nothing as she climbed out of the car and walked around the back to join him. He handed her a silver knife and a wooden stake.   
“What are these for?” She asked sceptically.   
“Who knows what we might encounter.” Dean shrugged. Lory handed him back the weapons.   
“If we go in looking for a fight chances are we’re gonna get one.”  
“If we don’t go in looking for one and one happens...?”  
Lory shook her head as she looked up at him. He was at least a head taller than her when she was wearing sneakers and not her usual heeled boots. Dean sighed and put everything back into the trunk, keeping only a roughly hewn crucifix. Lory turned her back on him and headed towards the graveyard. Dean slammed the trunk and called after her, “Hey, you gonna be okay?”  
“Will you stop asking me that?” Lory replied as he reached her side. She pushed the gate open. “I’ll be fine.” She didn’t believe it herself, but she hoped in telling herself she would enough times it would come true.   
“That necklace,” He gestured at her pentagram as they walked through the graveyard. Lory pulled her jacket tighter around herself and fought to maintain control. “Where’s it from?”  
Lory ran her finger over it. “I’ve always had it. It’s the only thing they found with me that was personalised. Though they took it off me until I was older. Church beliefs and all that.”  
“But they didn’t destroy it.”   
Lory shook her head. “Bound by protocol. So I stole it back.”  
“You stole it back?”  
“I found a box with my name on it in the office. There wasn’t much in there, just some drawings from school and my birth certificate and this.” She ran her fingers over it again. “So I took it back.”   
“You’re a bit of a badass, really.” Dean said admiringly. She caught his eye and blushed.   
“As I’m sure you know, when you’ve been brought up with nothing and no-one looking out for you, you have to be.”   
“I had someone looking out for me.”  
“Your Dad?”  
Dean nodded. Lory looked sadly at him for a moment, sensing more to the story, but she was prevented from asking as they reached the well and the tree. Lory fought the sickness rising inside her and swallowed hard.   
“Well. Here we are.” Dean said, walking towards it. “What are we looking for?”  
Lory shrugged. She was staring at the well. She had never looked at it properly before. There was something about it that was just... inviting. She ignored Dean as he walked forwards with the EMF reader and scanned the base of the tree, the roots and the well.   
“There’s something here.” He called as the device pipped against the floor. His voice tailed out into something incoherent as Lory walked slowly towards the well. She had never felt this drawn to it before. It was like it was drawing her in, inviting her. She paid Dean no attention as she walked towards it and put her hands on the edge, looking down into the depths. The darkness stretched on forever. She wouldn’t have to think about it anymore if she just...   
She could hear her. Hear her shouting for her just as she had done all those years ago.  
A pair of red eyes appeared in the darkness and Lory’s head threatened to split open with pain.   
Then she was suddenly dragged backwards. She crashed on top of Dean on the ground as his shouting came into focus over the ringing in her ears that she hadn’t noticed until her head smacked backwards against his shoulder.  
“Lory, what the hell are you doing!” Dean shouted, but before she could explain herself he pushed her to the side and she rolled onto her stomach, winded. He was up and on his feet with the cross out in front of him. Lory span around to watch as he slashed out with the knife he had brought from the trunk of the car, ignoring Lory’s warning, and the spectral black being vanished back into the well. Lory rolled over and threw up as the pain in her skull threatened to tear it apart. She was vaguely aware of Dean speaking to her, and of him then dragging her to her feet and helping her to the car. She was laid down on the backseat of the Impala as she could suddenly hear everything. Every single soul in the graveyard calling out to her. Her walls had crashed down and she couldn’t help but listen, the very thing she had been trying not to do since they had returned. Dean glanced nervously at her in his rear-view as she writhed on the backseat with her hands over her ears, sobbing and begging them to stop. Dean set his jaw and tried to think what to do. He was angry at her, but he couldn’t help but worry about her too. 

****  
Dean shut the door with a snap as Lory threw herself down onto the bed, her head in her hands and her elbows on her knees. The voices had stopped now, quietened by the sheer force Lory was putting into silencing them. It was taking all of her energy to not become absorbed in them. She was physically shaking, and Dean felt a mixture of pity and anger at her. Anger seemed to be the dominating emotion.   
“What the hell happened out there?” He demanded. Lory got instantly to her feet to meet his outburst with equal rage.   
“What gives you the right to speak to me like that?” She replied.   
“Lory, whatever happened to you out there nearly got you killed!” He shouted. “What was all that crap with the well?!”  
“I told you not to go in armed!” Lory shouted back. “You are every bit to blame as me!”   
“Ever since we got here, Lory, you’ve been hiding something. It’s getting real old real fast.” Dean tended to use gestures a lot when he was angry.   
“You don’t know a thing about me Dean, so stop pretending you do!” She shouted. “I’m not a child that needs to be scolded. I’m a fully grown woman who just so happens to be every bit as broken as you are.” She got to her feet and pointed at him angrily.  
“What the hell happened?” Dean repeated. He wasn’t great at articulating an argument and this woman was good with words at the best of times. “It’s time to come clean, okay? Everything. Right now. Do you have a case of PTSD I don’t know about?”  
“So what if I do?!” Lory was shouting as loud as he was, but her voice broke as she did.   
“Don’t you think you should have told me that before we went looking for trouble?” Dean countered. Her break hadn’t gone unnoticed.  
“Why should I? What difference would it have made?”   
Lory closed her eyes and forced the voices to silence. It took all of her strength and she sat back on the bed, shaking again.  
“What’s wrong with you?” Dean frowned at her.   
“Wrong with me? Wrong with me!? Stop pretending you’re such a saint.” Lory ran her hands over her head angrily.  
“I didn’t leave myself open and vulnerable to evil out there?! Or try to kill myself in a goddamn well!”   
“Like it’s my fault? I didn’t conjure that thing by poking around with EMF or iron!?”   
Dean turned his back on her and checked himself, rubbing his hands over his temples in an effort to think straight. He was cooling down, he could feel it. Lory sensed it too and buried her head in her hands again, allowed to be vulnerable.  
“Look, Lory.” Dean said, trying hard to keep his voice calm and concerned, the anger subsiding. “I can’t help you out there if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” Lory didn’t answer. Dean reached out and put his hesitant hands on her shoulders. He could see the tears shining on her cheek. Her eyes were closed and her face contorted in pain. His heart panged for her. “What is it?” He asked, gently tilting her chin to look at him. She opened her eyes but kept her gaze solidly fixed on the carpet, her arms folding around her stomach.   
“There’s stuff you don’t know about me.” She said, quietly. She sniffed and pulled out of his grip. He stayed where he was on his knees in front of her, defiant in his care for her. He felt guilty for blaming her for the events of the graveyard and he needed to right the wrong.  
“Then tell me.” Dean said softly. Hesitating, wondering where the line was and whether he was about to cross it, he put his hands on her knees. She looked at them but didn’t say anything. She couldn’t meet his eyes.  
“Where do I start?” She said thickly.   
“The beginning is always a good place?” Dean offered helpfully.   
There was a long pause.   
“You know I never knew my parents.” Lory said eventually, her voice soft and fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. She crossed her arms and rested them on her knees, taking care not to dispel his hands in the process. At this moment in time his touch was comforting. “Best theory I have was my Mom got knocked up and didn’t know what to do. I was left at Credence House, run by the nuns of Parris, barely a day old and with nothing but this,” She fingered the chain around her neck, “A note with my name and my birthday.” Dean’s heart went out to her. She still couldn’t meet his eye as she continued, “Life was tough, you know, kids can be mean. Sure, we were all orphans or children no one wanted, but that gave us hatred from the very start. We took it out on each other, and I was always so small and so… I’d never stick up for myself. I just took it like the idiot I was. That’s how I stole stuff from the office. I’d let the bigger girls get me to do their bidding and I’d always take the fall.” Fresh tears. Dean’s own eyes were moist at the sound of her pain. “When I was ten a new girl came. She was called Beatrice and she was a year younger than me, but we got on so well. She was like a sister to me, you know?” He knew. “We did everything together.” Lory smiled a little at the memory. Dean smiled too, but both faded as quickly as they had arrived. “Then a year later she ran away. No warning, she didn’t even tell me she was going to, just one day I got home from school and she hadn’t come back. I never saw her again.”   
“So you don’t know what happened?” Dean asked softly. Lory met his eyes for the briefest of seconds before looking back at the carpet.   
“I know what happened.” She said, another tear spurting from her eye. “She died.” The feeling of recounting all of this was painful, but speaking of it for the first time in ten years felt good. She went on, “It was after that I started hearing,” Her face screwed up in pain, “Voices.”  
“Voices?” Dean asked. Lory nodded.   
“Three years after she disappeared I heard her, Beatrice, calling me for help. She tried so hard to tell me what had happened to her. I followed her voice.” She swallowed hard. “Followed it to the well.” Dean’s eyes widened in realisation. At least that explained some of what happened, and why she had the headaches and the tattoo behind her ear, ‘listen’.  
“She was trapped down there and there was nothing I could do to save her. I went to the police to tell them what had happened. They didn’t believe me. Neither did the matron at Credence. When I told them how I knew… that Beatrice had told me… well,” She took a long shaky breath. “They had me committed.” She wiped her tears angrily before folding her arms even tighter, hugging herself for strength. Dean gripped her knees in support. “I let slip that I would often see a woman standing by my bed and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. They couldn’t have a psycho under their roof, not in the church, and not one who had been dropped off with a pentagram around her neck, so off I went. They used me like a lab-rat, running tests and procedures until there were long chunks of my life I couldn’t remember. Still can’t, they’re just black. There was just one nurse who would come to me and tell me she could take my nightmares away, but after some time passed I began to believe she too was a hallucination. I didn’t get the help I needed, just judgement and ridicule like some…” She didn’t finish the sentence as a heavy sob swept over her. Dean reached out his fingers on her knees and took the nearest hand. She looked at their entwined fingers and gently squeezed back. Her eyes were fixed on the gesture. “I ran away after that. Hitchhiked all over America, got jobs where I could, pretended I was older. Benefits of having curves in the right places. Shacked up with a guy who said he’d ‘take care of me’. He introduced me to paganism, told me about the pentagram I’d treasured for so long, though he was more into dark magick.” She inhaled through fresh sobs. “They’re the kind of witches you want to pour your hatred into, Dean.” She gave him a small smile. Dean squeezed her hand tighter and she responded gratefully. “He took everything I had. Money. Clothes... Virtue.” She breathed out shakily and looked up to stop herself crying again as Dean’s heart thumped. “I ended up in New York City working some seedy bar. I saved as much as I dared, slept on floors or on the subway so I could save every penny. All the while the voices followed me, I just … I couldn’t turn them off. I turned 19 and applied at Iroquis, Paranormal Science, in the hope I’d get some help. I had the money by some miracle. Crevaho was my saviour. Saw my potential, or something, let me work part time for him to cover some of the tuition. The rest I make up where I can in the museum or the bar.”   
“And did you get help?” Dean asked, finding his own voice thick with emotion. He cleared his throat guiltily. She met his eyes.   
“I haven’t heard anyone for nearly two years.” She said. Her brown eyes were swimming but Dean only found her more beautiful. With his free hand he reached up, putting his hand on her cheek and wiping her tears away with his thumb. He kept his hand there as she looked at him. “That is, until earlier today.” Her eyes dropped again. Dean removed his hand, catching a curl of her hair on the way to put it back on her knee. “It was Beatrice. Calling me from the well.” She whispered. Dean nodded understandingly.  
“I’m sorry.” He said. “If I’d known…” He felt honestly guilty.   
“It’s okay.” Lory said, nodding and meeting his eye again. “Really. I promise I’ll be stronger.”   
“We’re all allowed to break down sometimes.” Dean said softly.  
“I doubt you do.” Lory said, half-smiling. Dean copied her expression.   
“I have my moments.” He admitted. Lory smiled softly and sniffled. He met her eye and in the moment wanted nothing more than to kiss her. Lory could sense the connection and, suddenly feeling scared, unclasped their hands and stood up. Dean got quickly to his feet, the moment over. He didn’t want to push her, even if his heart was doing just that to him.   
“So that’s me. Poor little broken me.”  
“Lory,” He said quietly, wanting to tell her she wasn’t broken. But she interrupted him.  
“But I’m not that person anymore. I don’t want sympathy. I don’t need it, and I don’t want it.” Lory shrugged off her jacket and folded it neatly on the end of the bed. There was a pause as Dean looked over her tattoos and for the first time each one was a protection symbol of some sort. She had spent years accumulating them, running from her past. “Do you mind if I go to bed?” She caught his eye. “Or do you want to come up with a plan? We still don’t know what that spectre thing is.”  
“There’s time for that. I’ll do some research whilst you sleep.” Dean said. Lory nodded and began to walk into the bathroom. “Lory?” Dean called. Lory turned to face him, her hair bouncing over her shoulders. “Thanks. For being honest.”   
Lory smiled and nodded again before turning into the bathroom. Dean thought hard about everything he had witnessed that day. Trust him to fall for a woman with a past such as Lory’s.   
Lory fell asleep pretty quickly, lying on her side with her silver hair spread out in a fan. Dean sat up in bed beside her, Sam’s laptop on his knee and Lory’s notes out on the bed, the television playing meaningless drivel about crime and disaster. Dean clicked mute and looked down at Lory, her breath gentle and rhythmic as she slept deeply, her bare shoulder rising and falling in time. Without thinking, Dean’s heart reached out and moved his arm before he could stop it. He gently swept a strand of hair out of her face, the gentle light of the TV making her features glow. Dean read the tattoo behind her ear and smiled. She seemed to be able to make the most of a bad situation and that was the kind of woman he could get behind. She stirred slightly at the feel of his fingertips on her skin and he quickly withdrew his hand, not wanting to wake her. He had never felt like this before, not for Cassie or Lisa or anyone. It scared the crap out of him.   
As gently as he could, he slid off the bed and padded to the bathroom in his bare-feet, picking up his phone on the way past. Quietly, he opened the bathroom door and, leaving the door slightly open and ignoring the time, dialled Sam’s number.   
“Dean?” Sam picked up on the fourth ring, his voice thick with sleep, “What is it? Been so long you’ve forgotten where to put it?”   
“Shut up Sam.” Dean replied, perching on the edge of the bathtub and speaking in a hushed whisper. He was angry at himself for being the type of person who would make Sam think all he thought about was sex. He couldn’t even think about Lory that way right now. “I need your help.”   
“Dean?” Sam sounded concerned now at his tone, “What’s going on?”   
“Lory.” Dean replied.  
“What about her?”   
“I need you to do some digging. Discreet research.” He glanced up to check Lory was still sound asleep. She rolled over in the bed to face the opposite direction.   
“About Lory?”  
“Sort of.” He rubbed his forehead agitatedly. He didn’t want to betray her trust but he needed to know more. Something didn’t feel right. “She’s not from Lincoln, Sam, she’s from Salem, and her past is filled with tragedies. Raised in an orphanage, never knew her parents, that kind of thing.”   
“You think she’s trouble?”   
“I know she’s trouble,” Dean said truthfully, “But no. Her name is Mallory Rebecca Harris. And, whilst you’re at it, I need you to look up Credence House, Salem. It’s a church home for orphans,”  
“Lory’s an orphan?” Sam said sadly.   
“Yeah. And the disappearance of a young girl called Beatrice. It would have been about eleven years ago.”   
“Dean, what’s going on?”   
“Just, look it up, okay?” Dean asked.   
“Alright.” Sam didn’t sound sure. “Is everything okay? Do you know what you’re dealing with?”   
“Whatever it is I’ll have dealt with it by tomorrow night. Friday 13th, right.” Dean said.   
“That’s cutting it a bit fine, Dean.”  
“The sooner you can help me the better.” Dean grumbled, glancing once again at Lory. “Thanks Sam. Let me know what you find out.” Dean snapped his phone shut and looked out at Lory sleeping soundly in the bed. He needed to know more about this woman and her sordid past and whatever it had to do with the sporadic disappearances in Salem. Mulling over everything she had told him, he had one optimistic thought: it seemed she only had one ex that he may need to contend with, and that was something, at least. 

****

Dean was woken the next morning by a heavy thump in his chest. He opened his eyes to find Lory, already up and dressed in a dogtooth pinafore, standing in the middle of the room with a bag of fruit in her hand. She had thrown an apple at him and he caught it as it rolled off his chest.   
“Morning Sleeping Beauty,” She trilled, back to her old self it seemed, “Time to go sightseeing”   
“Sightseeing?” Dean asked, swinging his bare-legs out of bed and fumbling for his jeans on the floor.   
“Yeah,” Lory took a bite of a peach, “Salem Museum of Witchcraft.” She said, throwing him a pamphlet. “Figured we could do with some answers on what the hell that spectre was, and that seems to be a good place to start. It’s already Friday the 13th.” Christ, Sam was never this bossy.”Oh,” She was packing her bag hastily. “Sam has tried to call you like seven times. You should probably call him back.” She bit into her own apple and gave him a warm smile as he sat up blearily.   
“Can’t we have proper breakfast?” He asked.   
“No time. Lives to save.” She trilled. Dean rubbed his head and picked up his cell to read the messages from Sam.   
DEAN. ANSWER ME.

DEAN. DON’T MAKE ME TYPE IT ALL OUT. 

FINE. LORY WAS ADMITTED TO A PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL FOR HEARING VOICES. BEATRICE WENT MISSING AND WAS RUMOURED TO HAVE BEEN KILLED WHEN LORY REPORTED HEARING HER FROM THE BOTTOM OF THIS WELL IN PARRIS CHURCHYARD. LORY WAS A SUSPECT FOR A LONG TIME WHILST THEY WERE RUNNING TESTS ON HER. THEY STOPPED THINKING IT WAS HER WHEN SHE TURNED EIGHTEEN, BUT SHE RAN AWAY BEFORE THEN. 

DEAN. 

JERK.

YOU SUCK. 

CALL ME BACK.

Dean frowned at Sam’s messages but didn’t call him back. If he rang again he’d answer but for now his focus was it being Friday 13th. When he had been sat awake overnight he had managed to spot a pattern in the missing children of the Friday 13th disappearances through the years, at least those that had been documented. On every Friday 13th that fell in October there were reports of attempted kidnappings, but only the ones Lory had circled ended in a kid going missing. From what Dean could gather from the more recent disappearances, couple with what he had witnessed himself in the Henderson household yesterday, the kids had all been unhappy. Most were from Credence House foundling hospital, some were just from the streets and a rare few were from well-to-do households much like the Henderson’s where Dean suspected the kids felt neglected or even abused. If there was going to be another disappearance tonight he could almost guarantee the kid would fit the same profile. There wasn’t going to be another disappearance, however, because he and Lory would be there to stop it. If she could cope with the well, that was. He would have to rain-check on that specific detail until they knew for sure what they were handling.  
“You coming?” Lory called. Dean cleared his throat and nodded, pulling on his jeans. She was showing no signs of her breakdown yesterday and Dean once again wondered how he was going to keep up with her yo-yoing personality. 

****  
The Salem Museum of Witchcraft was a creepy place where every artefact gave Dean the heebie-jeebies. They both kept their eyes peeled for the spectre appearing in any illustrations or explanations of the time. Dean was lost in reading an old scroll when he felt Lory tap him in the chest and he looked up as she gestured to a man dressed as a puritan doing a tour guide. She gave him a silent look and they both joined the small group as the man guided them around the museum and told them the details of the witch trials. Lory knew all of this from her school days and Dean listened sceptically as he recounted their beliefs and superstitions, scoffing occasionally at primitive witch-hunting. Lory gave him a look and he corrected himself but his arms remained firmly crossed and his face sceptical. It was only as the puritan re-enactor spoke of a spectre witnessed by more than one suspect that they both listened hard. The puritan held up a painting for them all to see and Lory and Dean exchanged glances. The spectre in the painting wore a black cloak and had glowing red eyes. Lory clutched Dean’s sleeve as they listened hard. He glanced down at her but said nothing as the puritan explained: “Rebecca Nurse was one of the women put on trial who claimed to be plagued by such a spectre.” The puritan put down the painting and picked up another, though he kept it to himself for the moment. “She was convinced that said spectre would control her body and make her do its bidding.”   
Lory’s hand slid down Dean’s sleeve and she clutched his hand as the puritan held up a painting of Rebecca Nurse.   
“What is it?” Dean whispered hastily at the look of horror on Lory’s face .  
“That’s her.” Lory whispered back, her mouth dry. “That’s the woman who used to stand by my bed, whispering to me, filling my head.” Dean clutched her fingers as he looked back at the sketch. The woman had dark eyes that seemed to stare straight out at them. It was unsettling and Dean couldn’t imagine her standing by his bed every night.   
“Who was this Rebecca Nurse?” Dean called out, “You know, before she was a witch and all?”  
The puritan seemed taken aback by Dean’s abrupt question asking and Lory was in no place to make him behave. The puritan cleared his throat. “Erm. Well, she was a midwife and a children’s nurse, or whatever that was back then. She was accused of being a witch because the children in her care would become ill and die very quickly afterwards. She was accused of stealing their souls and using them for her own bidding.” The puritan laughed to break the tension and the crowd laughed along with him, “Spooky stuff, huh?”  
“It’s her, Dean.” Lory whispered, turning him to face her as the group moved on. “That’s who we saw in the graveyard. She’s still stealing souls.”   
“We need to know where she’s buried.” Dean said. He clutched her fingers as she hesitated. “Hey. It’ll be okay. I promise.” Lory nodded, though she had no idea how he could promise that. “We need to talk to Bartholomew Buckle over there.” Dean nodded at the puritan re-enactor. “Away from the crowds. This place got coffee?”

An hour later after hanging out by the torture device installation with takeaway coffee cups in their hands Lory and Dean watched as the puritan abandoned his tour group and dropped his sickening smile. Dean nudged Lory and nodded over. She followed his lead as he approached the man.   
“So, er, Nurse, huh? Spooky stuff. Killing kids an’ all.” Dean put his hands in his pocket. “My girlfriend and I,” He glanced at Lory as a flicker of a frown crossed her face. He prayed she’d be cool. His fears were null-in-void when she smiled at the puritan. “Wondered if she’s buried anywhere specific. We’re sort of,” He put his arm around her shoulders, “Dark tourists. Spooky stuff fuels us.” Lory looked up at him for a moment before simpering into his shoulder, playing the part. She felt him tense slightly.   
“Well you’ve come to the right place for that. It’s unknown exactly where she’s buried.” The puritan said and Dean’s heart sank, “She was deemed unfit for Christian burial at the time of her death.”  
“So you don’t know where she is?” Lory sounded disheartened.  
“Not exactly. She was originally buried in an unmarked grave until roughly one hundred and twenty years after she died. Then she was reinterred in Parris graveyard in a proper grave.”  
“With a headstone?” Lory asked, standing upright.  
“Not anymore.” The puritan said. “It was removed about fifty years ago when a kid was killed.”   
Lory and Dean looked at each other.   
“Is there any record of where the grave was?” Lory asked.   
“Yeah. I’ll fetch you a map.” The puritan said with a sickly smile. He scurried off and Lory looked up at Dean.   
“What do you think?”  
“I think this grave has a lot to answer for.” Dean muttered in response. His phone rang. “Sorry.” He said, glancing down at it. “It’s Sam. Could be important.”  
“Answer it. I’ll wait for the map.” Lory smiled at him and Dean nodded back, walking a little away from her. Lory watched as he engaged Sam in conversation but he spoke so low that she couldn’t hear him. The puritan returned with a town map upon which he had circled the graveyard and put an X in the middle of it. Lory squinted at it and her heart sank. The X was right beside the well. Lory’s heart sank as she smiled gratefully at him.   
“Thank you.” She said, and turned back to Dean as the puritan took his leave. Dean finished his phone call and hung up. His face was serious as he looked at her. “Everything okay?” Lory asked, but Dean forced a smile.   
“Yeah, fine. Did we get it?”  
“Yeah.” Lory held up the map. “You’re not gonna like it.”   
Dean sighed heavily. “Alright.” He said with a concerned expression on his face. “Let’s go.”


	12. Episode 3: Salem's Lot (Pt. 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Lory deal with the threat.

They waited for evening to fall properly before making their move to destroy the grave. It was a popular walking spot for those on the school run, but the winter drawing in meant it got dark earlier. The Impala waited in the parking lot with Dean and Lory sitting in reverent silence, waiting.   
“What I don’t understand is I searched around that well.” Dean said more to himself. “There was no raised ground, nothing that looked like a grave.” He prayed it wasn’t the tree that marked the bones. That would not be easy to dig up. Lory wasn’t listening. She was centring herself as best she could. She found a marker in her purse and began drawing additional symbols on her arms, filling in the gaps between her tattoos. Dean watched her nervously as she nibbled her bottom lip as she concentrated. She ignored his concern, hoping against hope the extra symbols she had drawn on her skin would work. Dean said nothing. He was thinking about what Sam had told him about her, about how when she disappeared she had been found in that very well. Lory didn’t seem to know, or if she did she was blacking it out. She said she had blacked out large parts of her life. It wasn’t the right time to tell her.   
She capped the marker and smiled at him.   
“You good?” He asked. She nodded.   
“As I can be. And Dean...” She bit her lip, thinking, “If it looks like I’m in trouble will you do me a favour?”   
“What’s that?” Dean pursed his lips, knowing what was coming.  
“Leave me be. I don’t want to put you in danger. Just do what you have to do to end this, yeah?”   
“Lory, I can’t just...”  
“Yes, you can.” Lory stared him down. There was a moment that passed between them and then Lory’s head snapped to the side as she heard a child crying out.   
“What is it?” Dean asked urgently.   
“Beatrice.” Lory said in a hurried whisper. She had opened the door and was sprinting across the graveyard towards the well before Dean could stop her.   
“Lory!” Dean shouted after her, grabbing his bag and running as best he could in her wake.  
“Beatrice!” Lory shouted from somewhere in the darkness.   
“Lory, it’s not real!” Dean shouted as he caught up with where she was standing stock still in the middle of the grass. She was clutching her necklace and staring straight ahead as Dean skidded to a halt beside her.   
There was a child standing in front of the well and crying, but it wasn’t a ghost. It was a flesh and blood child and she was terrified. Lory sank to her knees and held her arms out to the girl. Dean watched her carefully but she seemed to be in her right frame of mind.   
“Hey,” Lory said softly. “It’s alright...” The child did not respond to her. She was crying but her eyes stared straight ahead, unseeing. “Can you hear me?” Lory spoke a little louder. She looked worriedly up at Dean and then crept closer to the child. “It’s alright. We’re here to help.”  
“Lory.” Dean said urgently. Lory did not need him to point it out. She could hear the voices building up around her, a dull headache starting once again in her skull. She got to her feet just as the spectre of Rebecca Nurse appeared right where her unmarked grave was beside the well. Before Dean could make a move Rebecca swept her hand across the air in front of her and Dean was flung against the red tree, knocking him unconscious. Lory hurried forward and pulled the child away from the well and away from Rebecca.   
“Let the girl go.” Lory urged. “Take me.”  
“You are not a child.” The spectre spoke in a rasping ethereal voice. “I like children.”  
“No, but I was once. And you marked me then. Why not now?” Lory felt strong enough to stand up to the spectre, but she could still feel the effects taking over her. “Take me!” She shouted again. The spectre looked over Lory and the child. She rushed Lory, appearing suddenly right in front of her, her fingers reaching out. Lory could hear a low hum emitting from her. She stood her ground. Rebecca snapped her fingers and the child crumpled to the ground, unconscious but no longer in a trance. Rebecca wrapped her fingers around Lory’s throat. Lory gasped. There was no way a spectre should be able to touch her through the warding. The spectre ran her finger over Lory’s necklace and Lory shuddered as it vibrated through her every bone.   
“I remember you.” Rebecca whispered. “I marked you all those years ago as one of mine.” She gave Lory an evil smile, her red eyes glowing, and ripped the pentagram from Lory’s neck. In the same moment she was flung backwards as though a shockwave had rippled from the broken chain. Lory screamed as she smacked into the hard ground. Rebecca let out a shriek as the necklace burnt her hand and she flung it away, rushing Lory again and dragging her up.   
The pentagram landed next to Dean’s boot as he blinked himself awake and, interpreting Lory’s desperate scream in his groggy head, Dean knew what to do. He winced as he pushed himself up and looked over at where he could make them out by the well. Rebecca had one hand around Lory’s throat and the other plunged deep into her chest. Lory was losing the fight, she could feel the spectre pushing its way inside her head and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep going. He leant against the tree and made a realisation. The space where the spectre had appeared wasn’t above a grave. She wasn’t buried in a grave. From where he was laid on the ground he could see it plain as day. Etched into the stone of the well were the words, HERE LIES REBECCA NURSE. She was in the well.   
“Dean!” She pleaded, then cried out as the spectre plunged its hand into her chest. Her heart was struggling against the skeletal fingers wrapped around it. Dean didn’t need telling again. He pushed himself to his feet, abandoning the shovels and tools for digging. He ripped his shirt from his body and doused it in lighter fluid. He sprinkled the entire canister of salt down the well and, lighting the rag on fire, dropped it in afterwards. There was a heart stopping pause as he waited, praying there was no water in the well to douse it, and then, thankfully, the well caught on fire. He sank to his knees again, all energy leaving him. Lory felt Rebecca writhe. The spectre’s black cloak caught fire from the ground up and she withdrew her grasp on Lory’s heart. Lory fought against the fingers still gripping her throat as the fire began to spread.   
“Let her go!” Dean shouted from the well. Lory was looking desperately up at the face of evil, pleading for her to let go, when Rebecca pulled Lory’s ear closer to her own mouth.  
“You want to know why I marked you?” She was burning fast.   
“Lory!” She heard Dean shout, but her focus was on the spectre.   
“Blood can’t escape blood my child.” Rebecca whispered in Lory’s ear as the flames engulfed her. Smoke surrounded them both as Rebecca was reduced to ash. Dean watched as the cloud cleared and Lory crumpled onto the grass at the heart of the storm, her eyes closed, the skin around her neck festered and burnt, and her body motionless. Dean scrambled to a crawling position, the wind still knocked out of him, and moved as quickly as he could towards Lory. “Lory?” He repeated, coughing in the smoke the hag had left behind. He slipped an arm under Lory’s neck and wrapped the other around her stomach, pulling her up. Her head lolled dramatically, her hair tickling the ground. “Lory?!” He shouted, shaking her slightly. His heart was pounding. If that spectre had killed her he swore to God…  
Lory let out a cough and her eyes snapped open, a look of fear on her face. The burns around her neck faded slowly. She gripped Dean’s shoulder tightly with her left hand, her right wrapping around his torso. He let out a sigh of relief as she met his eyes, her beautiful face blackened with ash and smoke. Their bodies were so close he could feel her heartbeat through his own chest. Her brown eyes searched his green ones imploring, a look of relief on her face. Her lips parted slightly as she gripped the muscle in his upper-arm. For the first time this entire trip, Dean was certain of what to do. He didn’t need her to tell him. He leant down and pressed his lips against hers, his eyes closing instinctively. She pushed her lips into his, inviting him in, her hand moving up to his cheek. The kiss was romantic and passionate all at once, blood rushing through their veins. Her lips were soft and full and the pressure she applied was just right. As quickly as the kiss had started it ended as Dean pulled away. They met each other’s eyes again and he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.   
“Hey.” He whispered. “I thought I lost you for a moment there.”   
“You don’t get rid of me that easy.” Lory replied. Her fingers ran over his hand.   
“I’m glad you’re okay.” He said, his eyes scanning her face imploringly.   
“Yeah,” She said, “You too.”   
A moment passed between them whilst Lory gently traced the scars on his cheek with her thumbnail. He wiped some ash off of her chin and, in the process, gently pulled down her lip. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to just lie here, kissing her, glad to be alive. They had done it, defeated the bad guy, and they had both made it out alive.   
They were interrupted by Lory jumping suddenly, a voice whispering right in her ear.   
“Thank you.” Beatrice whispered. Lory gasped and sat up, Dean kneeling beside her, one hand still on her back and the other now on her lower leg. Lory looked around, her eyes wide.   
“Beatrice?” She asked.   
“We’re free.” Beatrice continued.   
“What is she saying?” Dean asked, his eyes searching her expression. A tear rolled down her cheek and she squeezed her eyes tightly closed. “Lory?”  
“Thank you.” Lory replied, opening her eyes and smiling at him. “She’s saying thank you, they’re free.”   
“Oh. Well.” Dean looked around at the empty space. “You’re welcome.”   
Lory laughed incredulously and started getting to her feet. “They’ve gone.” Dean rose too and helped her stand, taking her hand. Lory looked around, gripping his fingers tightly.   
“What now?” Dean asked.  
“We should probably get the kid home.” Lory looked down at the unconscious child still lying metres away. “That’s going to be hard to explain.”  
“That’s what anonymous tips are for.” Dean said, holding up his cell. Lory chuckled. “Trust me, it’s easier.” Lory nodded in agreement and looked about her again.   
“She’s gone.” She looked at Dean. Simultaneously they both let out a nervous giggle and released their grip on each other. Lory slipped her hands into her back pockets and Dean folded his arms coyly. There was a pause whilst they avoided each other’s gaze. Lory cleared her throat and pulled her cell out of her pocket. “I’ll call, shall I?” She began to walk to the Impala as she dialled 911. Dean grinned and followed her to the Impala. His lips were still tingling and his heart racing after their encounter. He was terrified too, more terrified than he had been facing the spectre, or the poltergeist, or the shadow creature. It was her. She terrified him, more so than anything else, because there was no denying anything now. She had feelings for him and he had feelings for her.   
As she finished the phone call and told Dean the police were on their way, both of them settled in the Impala as they made their way out of dodge as sirens wailed in the distance. In the shotgun seat Lory lightly touched her lips and smiled. He may not believe in magic, she thought, but she had definitely felt it in his kiss. 

***  
Neither of them said a word as Dean manoeuvred Baby onto the highway and set a course for Delaware, both of them happy to leave Salem far behind. He was frowning slightly, determined to concentrate on the road and not think back to what happened by the well. He glanced over at Lory, who was staring determinedly out of the rain washed window. Her face was still grubby from the ash of the exploding spectre and she frowned with concern for the child they had saved. She had angry red marks on her bare arms and neck where she had been attacked. The way the soft light of the street lamps on the roadside hit her features gave her an angelic glow. Dean looked back at the road. Lory was also trying not to think about what happened by the well. It had been nice, sure, and welcome, but she couldn’t get caught up in a man who would leave town as quickly as he had come. She glanced over at him as he concentrated on the road, tail lights causing a gently luminous quality on his face. She looked away again and back out of the window. Neither of them knew the other was looking, nor that they were both on each other's minds. Lory rested her head on her fingers with her elbow on the car door sill.  
“Music?” Dean asked, breaking the silence.  
Lory looked over and nodded. “Sure.”   
Dean smiled briefly and flicked the radio on. The car was filled with classic 80s rock power ballad. She grinned as Dean started drumming on the steering wheel and moving his head in time to the beat.   
“But you were there,” He began to sing in time with the lyrics, “To whisper in my ear, why don’t you share your dreams with me.” Lory’s heart started pounding. It was a well known fact women listen to lyrics more than men, and right now the lyrics were speaking the words neither of them could express. Dean continued, filling in the guitar breaks with impromptu vocalisation. “So when the sun goes down and those nights are growing colder, I will be there looking over your shoulder.” Lory laughed at him and he started laughing too. Lory sat up straight and started miming a microphone, hamming it up along with him as they both sang the chorus.   
“And the deeper the love the stronger the emotion, and the stronger the love, the deeper the devotion.” They sang in unison. The road was empty and Dean could afford to loosen up a little behind the wheel. They caught each others eyes as the bridge hit. Both continued singing but the look that passed between them was unlike any they had shared before.   
“I don’t mind, what you’re doing to me, I don’t mind, ‘cause you’re all I can see,”   
Lory stopped singing, a slight frown on her face as she watched him lose himself in the music. She knew what she wanted to do. “I don’t mind, baby, you mean the world to me.” Dean sang. He glanced over and saw her looking at him quizzically. Before he could ask why, and before she knew what she was saying, Lory had spoken.   
“Pull over.” She said.   
Dean frowned, glancing at the road and back at her. “What?” He asked, “Why? You okay?”   
“Just pull over.” Lory repeated. Dean glanced in the rear view and then did as he was told, steering the car onto a patch of dirt at the side of the road and applying the parking brake.  
“What’s the matter?” Dean asked. Without providing an answer Lory had slid across the front seat, her mind made up. In a swift move before either of them could argue, she had slid a hand over his cheek and onto the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair and using the grip to pull him into a passionate, primal kiss. He kissed her back, his hand sliding into the back pocket of her jeans. She ran both hands through his hair and manoeuvred her legs over his so she was straddling him. He slipped a hand under her hair and over her back. The kiss was hot, steamy and fervent, filled with the need and want they had both been keeping at bay for weeks. Her hand slid down his chest to his shirt, feeling the muscles underneath, and starting to pull it free of his jeans. In that moment they wanted nothing more than each other…

Lory woke up to Dean softly singing to a Whitesnake song on the radio. One side of her face was cool from being rested against the window, her arm was sore from where it had been squashed. She looked over at him, surprised to see him completely oblivious to the dream she had just had. Dazed, she pushed herself upright and rubbed her head.   
“Good dream?” Dean asked. Lory looked at him. Did he know? He had that knowing smile, but then he was so obnoxious that was how he usually looked. “You’re cute when you sleep. Been meaning to tell you for days.”   
“Shut up.” Lory retorted, forcing herself to look out of the window as she felt her face flush. God she was glad it was dark. 

****  
The Impala pulled up outside Number 13 and Lory found herself disappointed at the prospect of getting out and leaving him. Her dream had been buzzing around her head for several states. Part of her wanted to invite him inside.   
“So,” Dean said, resting his arm on the back of the seat. “That was fun.” Which bit was he referring to, exactly?  
“It was.” Lory said, avoiding his eye contact. She really didn’t want to leave, but she didn’t know what to say. “We should do it again some time.” She settled on. Lame.   
“We should.” Dean smiled, “Maybe not the spectre-slaying part, though.”   
“Why not?” Lory asked, jokingly.   
Dean chuckled. “See you around, Massachusetts. I’ll call if I need you again.”   
“So in like an hour?” Lory teased. She giggled and took the cue to get out of the car. She walked around the car to get her back out of the backseat. He smiled at her in the rear view and watched as she shut the backdoor and began walking towards her house. He would rather she stayed, but couldn’t think of anything to say to make her. Plus, watching her walk away had its benefits. Dean turned his attention to the radio when there was a knock on his window. He looked up to see Lory through it, having turned back. He wound it down and was about to say something quippy when she had put both hands on the sides of his face and leant down to kiss him. He kissed her back, feeling her waves tickle his neck. As quickly as it had started, it finished, and she stepped back from the car, biting her lip.   
“See you later, Kansas.” She said, smiling and turning to enter her house. “Black Magic Woman” by Santana played on the radio as Dean watched her go, his heart racing. Man, he knew how to pick ‘em.   
Lory didn’t turn back as she entered her house, Meredith waving at her from the window, but as she closed the door she leant against it with her eyes closed. Her heart was pounding as she listened to the sound of the Impala driving away.   
Right, she thought, time to re-evaluate her priorities.


	13. Episode 4: Pierce the Veil (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hallowe'en is just around the corner for Lory, Meredith and Gwen. And in the Hunter profession this is a dangerous time.

Iroquois, Delaware.

The late October breeze had picked up around the campus, blowing the fallen leaves to and fro along the path as if batting a ball. The trees were bare and black, their skeletal fingers reaching out to the Heavens as if searching for salvation as the days turned dark. The moon hung low in the sky, mere nights from becoming full once more. The subtle tones of the Witching Hour tainted the air.   
Students and teachers had long since returned to their homes to party or to study. Not a soul could be seen, save a black cat that suddenly yowled loudly and sped across the lawn of the common in the centre of the campus. For a moment it was unclear as to what had spooked it.   
A figure stepped out of the shadows and in to the light of the moon. It was wearing a long black coat which covered it from shoulder to floor, a wide-brimmed hat concealing its face from view. An aura of menace seeped from it as a low cloud of fog ebbed around its feet, and in its gloved hand it held a large, and loaded, crossbow. The figure scanned its surroundings. An evil sneer could be seen beneath the brim of its hat, curled and deadly. Then, as quickly as the figure had appeared, it disappeared again back into the shadows.   
All was quiet once more on campus as a distant clock chimed 3am. 

****  
“Hey!” cried Meredith as Lory entered the kitchen with her arms full of brown-bags. Meredith was standing against the kitchen surfaces with a mug of coffee in her hands. Her eyes glinted as she watched Lory cross the floor and gratefully dump the bags on the kitchen top.   
“Hey.” Lory said, throwing her long plait back over her shoulder and breathing out. “Life would be so much easier if I still had a car. Did you know the store was just over a mile away?”  
“Can’t you call that man of yours when you need the store?” Meredith asked, peeking into one of the bags. It was filled to the brim with black and orange packages.   
“Man of mine?” Lory asked, frowning. She knew exactly who Meredith meant, but she wasn’t going to admit that things were that black-and-white. She hadn’t admitted to Meredith about the kiss she had shared with him, but Meredith knew something had happened anyway. The joys of rooming with an empath, it was one step below mind-reader.  
“Dean.” Meredith replied, raising an eyebrow.   
“Oh, yeah.” Lory laughed it off as if it was nothing. “He’s not my man.”   
“You sure?” Meredith asked, hiding her smirk inside her coffee mug. “Even after that romantic getaway you two had?”   
“I’m sure.” Lory began to unpack one of the bags so she could turn away from Meredith. She was very aware that her cheeks were flushing beyond her control. “And it wasn’t a romantic getaway. Nothing happened.”  
“At all?” Meredith push. Lory gave her a look and couldn’t help but smile. Meredith shrieked.  
“I knew it! So, when’s the wedding?”  
“Shut up.” Lory laughed. “He’s not that type of person, and neither am I.”   
“Type of person?” Meredith asked. Lory looked at her, her eyes wide and her cheeks pink.   
“You know,” She said, averting her eye-contact as suddenly as she’d taken it, “Feelings and crap.”   
Meredith paused. “Lory,” She said. “You know I can read you like a book, right?”   
Lory shifted uncomfortably, “Well don’t.” She smiled to show she wasn’t completely pissed off.   
“I’m happy for you,” Meredith said, stepping forward to help Lory unpack. She pulled two bags of apples and an enormous bag of Hallowe’en candy out of one of the brown bags.   
“There’s nothing really to be happy for, he’s a good friend who happens to be a really good kisser.” Lory argued, then clapped her hand over her mouth.   
“Lory!” Meredith cried, beaming.  
“Shut up!” Lory whined, but she smiled at her, “He’s freaking good at it too.”  
“I’ll bet.” Meredith pushed Lory lightly. “You’re so smitten.”  
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Lory hit out at her with a plastic witch. Meredith caught hold of it and looked at it carefully.   
“So Hallowe’en, huh?” Meredith asked, changing the subject before Lory exploded and pulling out a second enormous bag of Hallowe’en candy. “Are we doing anything?”   
Lory paused in her unpacking of Hallowe’en decorated plastic cups and stared at her, a stack of cups in each hand.   
“Are we doing anything?” She repeated incredulously.  
“Okay, okay.” Meredith laughed. “What are we doing?” She reworded with a wink. “My family never really did Hallowe’en.”  
“Dude!” Lory cried. “You’re in for a whirlwind.” Lory promised, resuming her unpacking of Hallowe’en kitchen items. She was unpacking the bag of decorations now - skeletons and fake body parts and cotton-wool-spider-webs galore. “I thought we could have a party here.”   
“Costumes?” Meredith asked.  
“Obviously.” Lory replied, crumpling up the finally empty brown bags and leaning behind the positive mound of Hallowe’en paraphernalia.   
“Are Sam and Dean coming?” Meredith asked coyly. Lory swallowed, her cheeks flushing again. She wished they would stop doing that.  
“I haven’t asked yet,” She said.   
“Dean’ll come.”   
“Will he?” Lory asked.   
“You’ll be there, won’t you?” Meredith winked. “He won’t be able to resist.” Lory smirked, knowing she was right, and gathered an armful of Hallowe’en decorations.   
“Come on,” She said, “You can help me make an event online.” And she left the kitchen. 

****  
Lory wasn’t sure if she was dreaming when she heard a light tap on glass. Understandably wary of anything different or out-of-the-ordinary after the events of Salem, she instantly sat bolt upright and flicked on the bedside lamp. There was nothing in the room that screamed unusual, more than the usual anyway, but just to be on the safe side she reached out cautiously and gripped the iron wrench she had taken to sleeping under the pillow next to her on the bed. She listened hard for a good few moments, and was beginning to think she had imagined it after all, when - clink - there it was again, and coming from the direction of the window. Heedful, and more than slightly aware that she was wearing very little, Lory swung her legs out of bed and, wrench gripped tightly in her hand, crossed the carpet to the window. Careful not to reveal too much, she leant against the frame and slowly peeled back the edge of the curtain. Not sure exactly what she was expecting to see, it most definitely was not Dean, standing on the wall that ran down the front of the house, covered in blood and clutching his forearm, throwing pebbles desperately at the glass as he bled all over the ground. He gestured for her to open the window. Tightening her grip on the wrench, she unbolted the window and leant out.   
“Dean?” She asked, as quietly as she could, taking in his torn sleeve and bloodied appearance. “What the Hell?”   
“I’ll explain.” He said, “Can I come in?”  
Lory hesitated, scanning his appearance once more, and nodded, making to go to the front door. Before she had even stepped back from the window, however, Dean had shimmied up the drainpipe - quite impressively and not his first time, she thought, especially with his arm like this - and in the window. Lory stood back from him, vigilant. He picked himself up, closed the window, and stood in front of her, his head cocked on one side as he took in the wrench. Realising, he turned to the altar that took up the top of her dresser and took a handful of salt and sprinkled it on the windowsill. Lory relaxed a little as he turned back to her, the salt-covered hand held up as proof.   
“Satisfied?” He asked.   
Lory gently put the wrench against her arm and then nodded, satisfied. She looked him up and down, taking in his appearance at close range. He wasn’t wearing his usual leather jacket, just a navy shirt over a black t-shirt, but the left sleeve of the shirt was torn from the elbow and his hands, arm and jeans were glistening with blood.   
“What happened?” She asked, putting the wrench on the chest of drawers and approaching him. The blood was even on his neck and up his face.   
“You got bandages?” He asked, gesturing to the arm his was struggling to keep stemmed. Lory nodded and took his hand, gently stretching his arm out to get a better look.   
“It’s mostly superficial.” She said, thanking the Gods that she had a strong stomach. “All the blood can’t be from this wound alone.”   
“No.” Dean said. He was carefully watching her expression, impressed by how calm she was. He figured that’s how it must be once you were exposed to the ‘life’.   
“It needs washing first.” Lory concluded, looking him in the eye. She seemed to have forgotten that she was wearing just an oversized t-shirt. “Give me your clothes and I’ll clean them whilst you shower.” She was all business now as she held out her arms expectantly for his clothes. Dean blinked at her, reluctant to strip. She raised an eyebrow. “Come on,” She said. “It needs cleaning or it’ll get infected. You’re not the first man’s body I’ve seen. Get ‘em off.” Her voice was authoritative and Dean found himself liking it despite the situation. He did as he was told, shrugging off one side of his shirt and allowing her to help peel the left sleeve away from the cut.   
“You remember where the bathroom is?” She asked, accepting his t-shirt and jeans, all business and not even a flinch as he stood there in his underwear. Dean nodded. “Go on then,” She said. “I’ll be in here when you get out with a bandage.” She gave him a ‘jump to it’ look and he obliged, opening the bedroom door and cautiously looking both ways down the hall before tiptoeing into the dark hallway. Lory waited a moment, her heart pounding as she looked down at the bloody garments and wondering just exactly what she was aiding and abetting, before she followed him out of the room. She could hear the sound of the shower as she reached the staircase and descended them, deciding against turning any lights on so as not to disturb Meredith.  
Choosing to hand-wash the clothes for the best she quickly checked his pockets - removing his phone, fake IDs, silver blade, rock salt capsules and assorted religious jewellery - and soaked them in the sink. Something about the water turning red under her own skin made her stomach lurch but she persevered. Once satisfied they were as clean as they were ever going to be, she bundled them up and, grabbing a bandage from the cupboard on the way, Lory sneaked back up the stairs. She could still hear the shower as she passed the bathroom door. Once in her room, she hung the clothes on the radiator and closed the drapes. Catching sight of her reflection in the mirror, Lory decided she should probably put some more clothes on. Just as she had turned to the chest of drawers to find the one pair of long-forgotten pyjama pants, she heard a scream from the hall. Lory raced out into the hall to find Meredith leaning against the banister outside the bathroom, half-panicked, half-giggling.   
“What happened?” Lory asked. The look on Meredith’s face let her know the problem wasn’t demons.   
“I knocked on the door and there was no answer, so I thought I’d peep in because I thought it was you and you always pull the curtain… needless to say it wasn’t.” Her eyes were shining. “Sorry,” She said, unable to stifle a grin. Lory didn’t have time to answer before the bathroom door opened and a harassed looking Dean emerged, a towel around his waist and his left arm behind his back. Both Meredith and Lory subconsciously looked him up and down before Meredith gave Lory a look.   
“It’s not what you think.” Lory said, which Meredith didn’t buy for a second.   
“Yaha.” She said, her eyebrow somewhere on the ceiling.  
“Hey, Meredith.” Dean said sheepishly before disappearing down the hall in the direction of Lory’s room.   
“I’ll explain tomorrow.” Lory promised Meredith, turning and following him.   
“Use protection.” Meredith called softly, giggling to herself. Lory ignored her and entered her room to find Dean peering suspiciously out through a small gap in the curtain, still wearing nothing but the towel.   
Taking a moment to forget the surrealism of what had happened and instead to appreciate the view, Lory then shut the door and Dean turned to face her. There was a moment of understanding silence between them before Lory cleared her throat and gestured to the bed.   
“Have a seat.” She said, averting her eyes as he did to find the end of the bandage. When she looked back he was sitting unapologetically on the end of the bed in a waist-towel, his skin taught and still glistening from the shower. She couldn’t help thinking back to the kiss they had shared back in Salem, and wondering how she really felt about him. It had been a week or so but he had been in her thoughts constantly. He was too busy inspecting his cut to notice her floundering. She cleared her head with a shake and approached him. “How’s your arm?” She asked.   
Dean held it out to her, wincing as he did so. Lory steeled her stomach and knelt down in front of him, taking his arm in her hands. He watched her face carefully as she did, noticing how she got a little furrow on the brow of her nose when she concentrated. He found himself thinking back to the graveyard too, and became very aware of his state of nakedness. He shifted the towel tighter around him, cleared his throat and forced himself to look at the cut on his arm.   
“What happened?” Lory asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft. Dean noticed that she lightly bit the end of her tongue whilst she concentrated. This was more intimate than anything they had been through in the hotel in Salem.   
“I was hunting.” Dean said, watching her fingers work nimbly. “Got thrown about a bit…” She met his eye, her eyebrow raised. “A lot.” He corrected, shifting uncomfortably.   
“Did you catch it?” She asked, returning to tying off the bandage. Dean nodded.   
“Eventually.” He said. “Wasn’t pretty. Took a chunk of me with it.” He looked to his clothes on the radiator. “Sorry you had to do that.” He said, meeting her eye. Lory shrugged, her eyes glittering.   
“What else are friends for?” She asked. A moment passed between them. Lory swallowed and completed her dressing. She wiped her hands on her bare legs and got to her feet. “Meredith will have questions.” She said, crossing her arms. Dean tried not to focus on her bare legs under the oversized Kansas t-shirt.   
“Let her.” Dean said, averting his eyes and looking to his clothes again. Lory followed his gaze.   
“They won’t be dry for a while.” Lory said, gripping her elbows and swallowing. She glanced at the 00.35 time on the alarm clock and, initially taking a deep breath, sat beside him on the end of the bed, still holding herself tightly.  
“I’ll have to stay over then.” Dean said, before he could stop himself. He frowned at his own words, cursing himself for overstepping the mark. He could feel her energy next to him. Her breathing was quick and shallow. There was a long pause. Lory shivered slightly. “Are you cold?” He asked, looking sideways at her. She coyly glanced at him, before looking away again and fidgeting slightly. She shook her head.   
“Not really.” She replied. What was with the small talk? Were they 13? They’d slept in the same bed before, so why did this time feel different? Maybe it had something to do with his lack of clothing.   
“I’d offer you a jacket but…” Dean said, shrugging and gesturing to the towel. Lory chuckled.   
“It’s okay.” She said. There was another pause. They both coyly glanced at each other a second time, catching eye-contact and then looking away. Definitely like high school. Dean found his thoughts returning to the graveyard in Salem, the way she had kissed him, or the lingering kiss when he had dropped her off. She was the reason he had got injured, his mind just couldn’t focus. Lory found her thoughts turning to the dream she had had in the car leaving Salem, about how hungry she had been to be with him…   
They glanced at each other again but this time, as Lory went to look away, Dean placed a hand on her cheek to stop her. He held her eye-contact for less than a second to let her know what he was thinking, and she pursed her lips slightly in permission. Dean leaned in to kiss her. It was a different kiss to any they had shared before. The kiss in the graveyard had been a ‘thank God we’re alive’ kiss, but this kiss was laced with silent thoughts and desires. The hand on her cheek slid up into her hair, whilst the other met it on the other side. The kiss was hungry. Lory ran her hand up his arm, the other resting on his side. His skin was warm under her hand, and her touch made his heart pound. Somehow, they ended up horizontal on the bed, the kiss turning hungrier with each movement. It was exciting, Lory could feel his heart beating as his chest met hers. She ran her hands over his bare back and into his hair, whilst his hands travelled down over her body and to her legs. They were lost in each other, hungry for nothing but each other. Everything they had both secretly wanted since the moment they met came pouring out in each kiss…  
And then as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Dean pulled out of the kiss, looking down on her as she frowned at him. He sat up on the edge of the bed, leaving Lory to lie for a moment, confused, before pulling her knees up to her chest and looking at the back of his head.   
“What is it?” She asked, not entirely wanting to know the answer. She tucked her hair behind her ear, losing all of the buzz she had felt from his touch. She didn’t want to ask the question that was pounding around her head. “Did I do something?” She couldn’t stop it slipping out. Dean turned to face her so quickly it must have hurt his neck.  
“What?” He said, “No.” Lory breathed a sigh of relief.   
“Then what?” She asked, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes at the touch. There was a moment whilst he focussed on the sensation, before he opened his eyes again.   
“Lory,” He started, unsure how to voice the thoughts in his head. He met her eyes, which were big and pleading. She was biting her lip in anticipation. He wished she wouldn’t do that. God, he wanted to kiss her again. He sighed, resignedly. “I like you.” Maybe the truth was best. “A lot. Have done since I first laid eyes on you, actually.”   
“When you thought I’d put a spell on you?” Lory asked, smiling slightly. Dean mirrored her expression.   
“Yeah.” He said. He met her eyes. “I just, I really don’t want to ruin this thing we have.”   
“How would you ruin it?” Lory asked. Her heart was pounding.   
“I tend to…” He made a head movement to indicate the bed, and then raised an eyebrow. “...and then leave.” He surveyed her face. “I don’t want to do that to you.”   
Lory glanced down at the bed too, and frowned, thinking over his words. She wasn’t sure what to make of them. She knew he was a playboy, and she knew she promised she wasn’t going to let that happen. She pulled herself closer to him on the bed, wrapped her arm around him and lightly kissed his shoulder. She could feel his shaky breath on her face as she rested her chin on his shoulder, looking into his eyes and smiling.   
“What makes you think I’d let you?” She asked, her eyes glittering. He smiled back and accepted the light kiss on the lips she gave him. “For the record,” She said in a low-whisper, “I don’t think you would.” Dean watched as she pushed herself away from him and laid down on top of the covers, her back to him, curled up in the foetal position. He took in every shape that her form made on the bed and wondered whether he could be the better person for once in his life. Lory was waiting for him to make his mind up, forcing her shaky breathing to be normal. She so wanted him to make the right choice. She was grateful to feel the bed depress behind her as he slipped under the bedclothes. She was even more grateful when she felt his arm, although hesitant, snake around her waist and pull her close. She smiled to herself, her face away from him, and reached out to turn off the light. She rested her arm back against his and entwined her fingers in his, feeling his ring press against her skin.   
As they laid there in the darkness, his arm around her waist, Lory felt a light kiss on the back of her neck as Dean felt, for the first time in as long as he could remember, content. Maybe he could give this whole ‘relationship’ thing an honest go of it. For the most part, he could get used to falling asleep with Lory’s silver hair tickling his face. 

When Lory woke up the next morning, however, it was to a confused mind and an empty bed. A check of her phone showed no messages from Dean. She sat up to see his clothes gone from the radiator. So that settled it. He had run, like a coward, and she had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. At least they hadn’t… Lory didn’t know what to think. He said he liked her and then he did this? She made a mental note to beat it out of him.


	14. Episode 4: Pierce the Veil (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lory and Dean investigate disappearances on campus and get closer as a couple. Gwen gets braver, and a threat grows on campus. Happy Hallowe'en!

The chime of 3am clanged from the campus as a fox skirted the outlying wall. A dirt devil picked up by the bricks as a figure walked into view. She was more than a little drunk and finding it hard to walk in a straight line, made harder by the swirl of the fog around her heeled boots. Why had she decided to leave the party and not stay the night like everyone else? Madison had no idea, but here she was at the wall and the wind was swirling around her. Come to think of it, it was the strongest wind she had experienced in a long time. Was it the drink talking? She clutched her costume hat onto her head and braced herself as she crashed into the wall. Was she imagining it, or was that a dark shape in front of her? It was tall, and it held a crossbow in its hand. Madison giggled as she approached it, thinking it another man in costume like her.

She had never been more wrong.

****

Gwen made a mental note to be braver.

After everything that had happened lately it was dizzying and she was beginning to feel very lonely on campus. Meredith was kind, she tried to contact her as much as possible and had given Gwen an open invitation to head round to their house if she ever needed comfort.

Which was most of the time.

And then there was Sam who she had run into more than twice now in several days. He was eyeballs deep in mid-term prep but they exchanged sheepish glances from across the library once or twice and he always smiled at her. He wasn’t here now.

She just wished she could tell him how she felt. Did she even know how she felt?

She rolled her eyes at herself and shut the book open in front of her. It was nearly Hallowe’en and she wished she was brave enough to accept the many invitations she had received. The people in her class seemed to like her, that was for sure. She had been inundated with kind invitations. She just wasn’t ready to accept any.

She wondered if Meredith would be doing anything for Hallowe’en. She could maybe get over her fear around Meredith. Meredith seemed to understand. She never said anything out of place… it was like she knew just what Gwen was thinking.

Gwen frowned and thought about all of the supernatural things that happened on campus lately. She thought about her own abilities. She frowned deeper and wished her aunt was here. She sighed and gathered up her book, heading outside the library for the first time in days.

It was crisp outside but it wasn’t cold. She bundled her sweater tighter about herself and set off the back way to her accommodation. It was more peaceful this way. The leaves never asked her awkward questions, nor did the wind laugh behind her back. She smiled to herself and found herself grateful that nobody could read her thoughts. She must sound crazy to anyone who didn’t understand what an atmomancer was.

Maybe that’s why she pushed people away. Nobody would get it.

Gwen stopped beneath a particularly beautiful tree covered in red fall leaves. She smiled. She didn’t need friends when she had nature.

Her cheeks brightened as she continued on her way with a small smile on her lips.

She stopped in her tracks as a sudden change in the wind caused her to stop and take note. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

She looked about her, alone as she was, to see if anything was out of place. It was very rarely that anyone walked this way. It was so far from the main campus or any of the accommodation. Gwen knew it very well as she often frequented it. But something wasn’t right.

She closed her eyes and bent down to touch the ground.

A ripple of fear shot through her body and she lifted her hand as though burned.

“What the…” She asked the trees. She couldn’t explain it but it was there, clear as day. Something awful had happened here.

Something supernatural.

She needed to talk to someone… but who.

Sam.

She bit the bullet and dialed his number on her cell.

****

Lory noticed a familiar face across the bar as she hung the wine glasses in her hand. She smirked at the sight of Dean trying desperately (and failing) to avoid her eye-contact. She exchanged a glance with Paolo as she passed him.

“Are you going to let him get away with it?” Paolo asked. He knew all about the sleep-and-leave incident of the week before. Lory raised an eyebrow.

“What do you think?” She asked, her eyes twinkling. Paolo grinned.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.” He whispered on the way past. Lory nodded and stopped just in front of Dean, leaning across the bar and waiting for him to stop staring inconspicuously at the menu that he was holding upside down. Lory cleared her throat and Dean looked up as though he had only just noticed her.

“Oh,” He said, in mock surprise, “Lory, hey.”

“Hey.” She chuckled. “What are you doing here?”

“Fancied a drink.” He said not entirely convincingly.

“Sure.” Lory said. “What can I get you?” Dean finally met her eyes and instantly lost all track of his thoughts. His mouth hung open slightly. Lory gently reached out and closed it for him. “Scotch?” She asked.

“Neat.” He blinked at the feel of her fingers on his chin. He couldn’t get the image of her sleeping out of his mind.

“You got it.” She said, withdrawing from the bar and setting about pouring him a drink. He watched her, unless she looked up at him and then he went back to the menu. He didn’t know what to say after the way he had acted… he really had enjoyed sleeping beside her. He got scared, that’s all. Lory put the drink down in front of him and resumed her leaning on the bar. “How’ve you been?” She asked.

“Good.” Dean replied, trying and failing to avoid her eye-contact. She smiled.

“Got over the trauma?” Lory asked. Her hair was brushing her forearms slightly. Dean remembered how it had brushed his face… he nodded and sipped his drink. There was a pause.

“You could have called.” She said, trying to keep her voice light, cocking her head on one side.

Dean looked at her.

“Yeah,” He said, his voice catching in his throat. “Sorry, I’ve been…”

“Busy?” Lory offered. There was a pause before she looked away. “It’s alright. I know what you mean.” She couldn’t completely mask the hurt in her voice. Dean suddenly felt the worst person on the planet.

“I wanted to,” He said, “Especially after…” He glanced around, “After that night.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Lory asked, her eyes darting over his face like a laser beam.

“I…” Dean started.

“Do you not get how… degrading… it felt to wake up to an empty bed, after…” She shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her upper arm as she thought back to how his touch had felt. Dean wanted to reach out and take her hand, but something was staying his hand. Lory seemed to understand that he was struggling. “But you did warn me, I guess.” Her hurt persona faded and she returned to her usual self. For the first time Dean realised she was wearing a mask, just like he was. “I get it.” She said. “It’s hard sometimes to admit your feelings.” Dean blinked at her. Her eyes burned into his before she spoke again. “But, I know what I felt that night, and I’m damn sure I know you felt something.” Her voice caught as she suddenly felt the urge to cry. She dropped his eye contact and focused on twisting her ring around her finger. Dean bit the bullet. He reached out and took her hand. She didn’t pull away. 

“I did.” He said, quietly, very aware that Paolo was eavesdropping further up the bar. Lory met his eye again. “I felt so damn much that night it scared me. I’ve fought monsters and demons… but the way you make me feel is new. I’m…” He bit his tongue before he could say the word ‘terrified’. He swallowed. “How can I make it up to you?” He asked, his voice catching.

Lory took a moment to consider. He looked honestly sincere and the catch in his voice was particularly convincing. She smiled. 

“Take me on a date.” She said.

“A what?” Dean asked, sounding as scared as he felt. Lory giggled at his wide-eyes.

“A date. A red-blooded, bonafide, all-American date. You man, me woman.” She said. “Show me what you Southern boys are made of.” She dropped her gaze in a particularly smoldering way. Dean suddenly felt hot under the collar.

“A date?” He replied, his mouth dry.

“Sure. You do know what one of those is, right?” Lory asked.

“Yeah, course.” He said.

“And you’ve... been on one?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“One that wasn’t booze and… bed?”

Dean looked at the floor.

Lory laughed incredulously. “Dean Winchester,” She said. His heart hammered at her saying his name. “Are you telling me, after all these women you’ve supposedly been with, you’ve never been on an actual date?” Dean didn’t know how to answer. Lory, thankfully, did. “Dinner.” Lory said, coming to his rescue. “You can choose the place. Pick me up tomorrow night at 8. Wear something nice.” She commanded. “And then maybe I’ll forgive you.” Dean nodded helplessly. She withdrew her hand from his grip. “And don’t forget your wallet.”

And with that, she had walked away to serve a customer higher up the bar. Dean blinked at her, really quite unsure of what had just happened. A date? Him? He needed to talk to Sam and he needed it now.

****

“What do you mean?” Sam asked with a slight scowl on his brow. Gwen had called him so out of the blue that he had dropped everything to meet with her. Literally. His law books were on the floor of his room. It was so out of character but he wasn’t going to argue.

“I can’t explain it.” Gwen said. “It just felt… wrong.” She rubbed her neck thoughtfully.

“Are you sure it’s not just, you know, residue? From…”

“No.” Gwen dismissed him assertively. He raised his eyebrows. “It felt more than that.”

“And… the trees told you?” Sam tried not to sound like he was being skeptical. But he was being skeptical.

“I know that sounds crazy.” Gwen swallowed and met his eye nervously. “Do you believe in…” She hesitated. “Witchcraft?”

Both of Sam’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

“In what way?” He asked, looking away from her. They were sitting on a bench in the middle of the grounds of campus, both of them bundled up and both of them nervous.

“In…” Gwen sighed. “God I sound crazy.”

“No, you don’t.” Sam interrupted quickly. “Like… Wicca?”

“Yes!” Gwen said, grateful that he understood.

“Like Lory?” Sam asked.

Gwen frowned at him. “Lory?”

“Yeah. She’s a Wiccan.”

“I… I didn’t know that.” Gwen looked at the floor. Why hadn’t she noticed?

“So white magick?” Sam asked, bringing the subject back. Gwen blinked and nodded.

“Yeah. It’s how I was raised.” She picked at her sleeve. “My Aunt Cassie… she’s a witch. And I’m atmomantic.” Gwen swallowed, her mouth very dry.

“That’s awesome.” Sam said incredulously. Gwen stared at him.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Sam said. “So… you got this feeling from the trees?”

“The leaves, yes.” Gwen nodded. “This feeling that something bad happened.”

“Has anyone reported anything?” Sam asked.

“I… haven’t looked.” Gwen shrugged. “Anything like what?”

“Anything unexplainable. Supernatural.” Sam sighed. “It’s nearly Hallowe’en after all. All sorts could be out.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” Gwen said.

“No.” Sam said solemnly. “Neither do I.”

“Let’s hope I’m wrong.” Gwen shrugged, though she knew it was hopeless. She was very rarely wrong.

****

Lory looked around the restaurant in what appeared to be quiet approval. Dean was watching her carefully as the coat attendant took her coat. He shook his head as the attendant offered to take his jacket.

“So far so good.” Lory said, smiling at him reassuringly. Dean breathed out and allowed the matre’d to show them to a table in a far corner. As they reached the table the matre’d went to pull out a chair for Lory but Dean, remembering Sam’s warning to ‘act like a gentleman’ hurried to get there before him. “I’ve got it, bud.” Dean remarked. The matre’d raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow but said nothing of it. Lory blinked in bewilderment as Dean pulled out her chair for her and she sat down.

“Quite the gentleman you’ve got there,” The matre’d said as Dean sat down himself and took the menu placed in front of him.

“Apparently so.” Lory said, slightly amused at how out of his depth Dean looked. The matre’d gave Dean an eye-up-and-down, taking in the leather jacket and (his best pair of) jeans, before turning to Lory again, clearly deciding she was the most sophisticated of the pair in her tight black number.

“Drinks?” He asked. Lory didn’t even glance at the drinks menu before ordering.

“He’ll have a scotch, neat, and I’ll have a cocktail” She said expertly. “Surprise me.” She added, handing over the drinks menu with a cheeky grin. The matre’d smiled back.

“I’ll send a waiter over.” He said, his smile fading as he turned to Dean and he looked him once more up and down before leaving. Lory waited until he was out of earshot before spluttering with laughter. Dean frowned at her.

“Did you try and kill him or something? He’s really got it in for you.” She chuckled. Dean glared at the back of the matre’d and shifted uncomfortably.

“Not that I can remember.” He said.

“Must just be you.” Lory said, as she lifted the menu. “Are you feeling fish? I’m feeling fish.” Dean blinked at her. He knew he wasn’t under a spell, yet he found himself spellbound by her.

“This is so surreal.” He said with an uncomfortable shift of his shoulder.

“How d’you mean?”

“I mean me. On a date. With a woman.” He looked around as though someone was about to call it was all a prank.

“Well, don’t I feel honoured.” Lory rolled her eyes at him.

“I mean..” Dean sighed. “I’m not this guy, Lory. I don’t do dates. I don’t do romance.”

“Really.” Lory raised her eyebrows and feigned surprise, “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You laugh…” Dean sighed. “I’m a broken man when I’m around you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Lory said. There was a pause and she shut the menu. “For the record, Dean, I don’t expect anything. Romance isn’t really my thing, either.”

“Then what are doing?” Dean chuckled lightly.

“Playing a part.” Lory said as the waiter came over. “So humour me.”

Two courses later, pie on the way, and the edge was gone either thanks to the company or the scotch.

“So.” Dean bit the bullet and decided to ask straight out. “Lory. You fascinate me.”

“Thanks.” Lory said with a smile, “I think.”

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“No. I have. You. Your witchcraft. Your skills.” He gestured to his ears. “And I think both of us know what we have is more than friendship.”

“Do we?” Lory’s eyes were sparkling but she was blushing.

“I think it is.” Dean said, suddenly worried he’d overstepped the mark. “I really enjoy hanging out with you, and for the most part it’s natural.”

“You mean as opposed to supernatural?” Lory smiled. She had always talked too much when she was nervous, and he made her nervous.

“Yeah.” Dean smiled. “I wondered if you wanted to…” He swallowed, “Maybe be exclusive?”

“Dean Winchester,” Lory bit her lip, “Are you asking me out? You’re aware we’re already on a date, right?”

“Yeah… I just…” He shook his head.

Lory smiled. “I’m teasing you. I’d love to.”

“You would?” Dean grinned at her. There was a moment of silence as they both blushed and looked away. “I have something for you.” He said eventually, pulling a velvet bag out of his pocket.

“A Hex bag?” Lory asked with a nervous giggle.

“No.” Dean pushed it towards her. “I wouldn’t know where to start with one of those.”

Lory frowned at him as she took it. She opened it gently and pulled out the silver necklace inside. A pentagram. She stared at him incredulously.

“I know your other broke in Salem and…” He shrugged awkwardly, “I’d hate for you not to have protection when I’m not around.”

Lory grinned at him and pulled it out. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Dean watched as she fastened it around her neck and grinned at her, wanting to tell her _she_ was beautiful but not quite bringing it to him. She smiled thankfully at him.

“I love it.” She said with a gentle touch to his hand. She was saved further emotion by the arrival of dessert.

It wasn’t needed. She knew where they stood, and she was grateful. Even if they were both to shy to say so explicitly.

****

Walking home along the path in darkness wasn’t Cindy’s idea of a good time. She dialed her girlfriend’s number with a shaking hand and waited for her to pick up.

“What is it babe?” Tammy asked.

“Walking home was a bad idea.” Cindy slurred. She was more than a little drunk as she shifted the witches hat back onto her head. She turned on the spot in the dark pathway. “It’s foggy as all Hell. I’m gonna come back.”

“I did think it was a bad idea to head home.” Tammy scolded. “But you are stubborn.”

“Ah, shut up.” Cindy slurred. She set off back down the foggy pathway in her heels and short dress, regretting her life choices as she staggered drunkenly. Somewhere a clock was chiming 3am. “God it’s so foggy.” She wafted her arm as though it would help.

“Just keep talking to me so I know where you are.” Tammy shook her head.

“I will do. It’s so eery. I think I can see the house now… is that… is that Lance standing outside?” Cindy narrowed her eyes at the shadowy figure on the front porch.

“Lance?” Tammy sounded scared, “No, Cindy, he’s standing next to me. Cindy… who are you seeing? It’s not Lance. Cindy?”

But Cindy never replied.

****

Lory had just finished putting the finishing touches to the decoration in the downstairs bay window when she saw the Impala pull up outside. Her heart did a back-flip as she watched Dean get out, stretch, and then turn and reach back into the front seat. He emerged a few moments later with a cardboard container filled with two coffee cups, and a bag that looked suspiciously takeaway-ish. Lory grinned as she watched him ascend the steps, catch sight of her in the window and nod in acknowledgement. She gave him a one-handed wave that she instantly regretted, and gave him a signal that meant ‘just come straight in’.

As she saw him disappear from view and heard the front door open, she took a second to tidy her appearance in the reflection of the window. Her silver hair was loose and unfurling down her back in loose curls, her make-up was as expert as always, and she was wearing a cute shift-dress number straight out of 1964. Maybe it was a little short around the leg to be standing in the front window, but so far nobody seemed to mind. Since their date the other night, and the encounter the week before, she was more than a little conscious of her appearance when around him, and she hated it. She talked a good game about not needing someone to define her, but apparently her narcissistic tendencies had other thoughts.

She turned around on her precarious perch atop the bay windowsill and was about to navigate her way onto the even more precarious stool when he came into the room, saw her about to climb down, put the offerings on the tabletop and hurriedly crossed over. In some sort of movie-tastic-move he had put his arms around her waist and lifted her down as if she weighed nothing, setting her down in front of him and gently twirling the end of the hair that tumbled down her shoulders around his fingers. She wrapped her arms around his neck in response and gave him a light peck on the lips. Sure, neither of them had discussed where they were headed in whatever this excuse for a relationship was, but sometimes things just felt right. He smiled at her, the expression meeting his eyes.

“Hey Kansas,” She said, gently wiping her lipstick from his mouth with her thumb. He smiled and kissed her lightly on the tip of the nose.

“Hey.” He replied. The moment was cute, but as soon as it had happened, as was the custom with Dean, it ended and he let go of her to hand her the coffee-and-muffin package he had brought with him. Lory accepted it as part of a whatever-classed-as-a-relationship with Dean Winchester - not every moment would be ‘rom-com gold’. She shrugged it off and perched on the edge of the couch arm, picking at the muffin adeptly.

“What do you think?” She asked, nodding at the decor in the room. Dean looked around at it as he sipped his coffee.

“Hallowe’en?” He asked, his tone laced with skepticism. Her eyes were big and expectant as she surveyed him.

“Yeah,” She said. Dean caught sight of her expression and quickly covered his own tracks.

“Sorry,” He said. “I’m still not much of a Hallowe’en person. Something to do with my line of work I guess.” He slid onto the couch opposite and put his coffee down.

“Something like toy companies hating Christmas?” Lory raised an eyebrow at him.

“Something like that.” Dean shrugged.

“You know it’s not all devils, demons and darkness, right?” She asked, putting her own coffee down too. He met her eye.

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me otherwise.” He said, shifting to make himself comfortable and resigning himself to what he was sure was about to be another tirade. He enjoyed her company but he hated when she proved him wrong - which, unfortunately, was often.

“Damn straight.” Lory said, crossing the floor to sit beside him. She drew her knees up so her feet were underneath her, resting her cocked elbow on his shoulder and placing her head in her hand. “What did your Daddy tell you?” Dean met her eye again, a sulk-like frown on his face. Lory smiled and innocently adjusted the collar of his jacket. He kept her gaze as she did, and as she then began to fiddle with the silver pentagram necklace that was hung around her neck, the one he had given her. Dean watched her delicate fingers as she twirled it around. He blinked and forced himself to concentrate.

“Hallowe’en is a festival that dates back to ancient Celtic festival called Samhain, celebrated on October 30th.” She said, “It’s a fire festival to honour the dead.” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Honour?”

“Yes. Not every dead person wants to eat you alive.” She poked him. “Some of them just want peace. And Samhain was the one time of the year when they could come back.” 

“Wait, come back?” Dean asked incredulously.

“Yeah.” Lory smiled at his expression.

“And that’s to be celebrated?”

“Sam really does do all of the reading doesn’t he?” She chuckled, flirtatiously sweeping his hair off of his forehead. He savoured her touch.

“Yah. He’s a nerd.”

“So he’s the brains and you’re what, the beauty?” Her eyes were sparkling as she gently ran her fingers through his hair. He winked at her.

“You know it baby.” He said. They shared a moment before he cleared his throat. “So Hallowe’en is really this celtic festival of the dead?” Dean was finding it hard to concentrate on what she was saying whilst she was playing with a strand of his hair.

“Yeah. Over time the lore got kind of scrambled, different cultures added their own flair, which is why we have different Hallowe’en traditions, and lots of religions and cultures have their own versions - Dia des Muertos, All Saints Day etc. But Samhain is where it all started really. The only reason it started being associated with ‘evil’ is when Westernised Christian’s got ahold of it. They saw our antlered god and figured it was their Devil.” She leant forward, her aura rippling with irritation, and picked up her coffee. Dean watched her every move, his heart pounding softly, as she sat back against him again and tucked her hair behind her ear. She began twirling the ends around her fingers, something he had began to recognise as a quirk she had when she was agitated or anxious.

“So why October 30th? What’s so important about that date?” He asked, hoping to distract her.

“It’s when the veil is at its thinnest.” She stopped twirling her hair and began plaiting and unplaiting it herself.

Dean hesitated, before twitching his face and accepting his face.

“Veil?” He asked, knowing he’d regret it.

“The curtain between the land of the living and the land of the dead.” Lory explained.

Yhup. Regretting it.

“So what, the dead can just walk through?”

“It’s easier for them to, yeah.”

“That explains why our workload always goes up around the Holidays.” Dean said, leaning forward to pick up his coffee and drink from it. He sat back to find Lory looking at him skeptically. “What?” He demanded. Lory held his gaze for a few moments before smiling and shaking her head.

“I know you don’t believe the things I do.” She said, shrugging. “And that’s okay. We can’t have everything in common.”

Dean suddenly felt bad. He resigned himself to ‘feeling’ and put a hand on her cheek.

“Hey,” He said, steeling himself, “Whatever you want me to believe, I’ll believe.” She smiled at his words and put her hand over his.

“Well, then it would be no fun.” She said, kissing the mount of his hand. She took a deep breath. “Anyway. I’m sure you didn’t come here just to bring me coffee and to insult my beliefs. What’s up?”

Was he that transparent? He paused before removing his hand from her face and reaching into his jacket to pull out the printed sheet of paper Sam had given him that morning, handing it over to Lory. She unfolded it, a slight frown knitting her eyebrows together in that cute way that made his heart flutter.

“Missing?” She asked, surveying the picture of the young woman she had been handed. “Since when?”

“Two days ago.” Dean said. “You know her?”

“Yeah, Cindy. She was in my ancient mythology class.” Lory’s voice was heavy as she handed him back the page. “She’s a good person.” She swallowed, wishing these things wouldn’t keep happening. “Are you thinking demons?”

“She was last seen walking home from a party outside campus.”

“Have you checked it out?”

“Not yet. First, do you know of any enemies she might have had?”

“Not really. Like I said, good person. Everyone loved - loves - her.”

“No crazy exes?”

“As far as I know her girlfriend is a perfectly sane human being. They’ve been together since she got here three years ago.”

“Anything to set her aside as a victim?”

“I don’t really know her that well Dean. We talk sometimes, that’s all.” Lory sat upright and put her head in her hands. Dean hesitated before placing a hand gently on her back in comfort. “I hope she’s okay.” Lory muttered.

“We’re gonna find out.” Dean said, getting to his feet. Lory looked up at him, frowning.

“We?”

“Yeah. Get your jacket.” Dean ordered. Lory stood up obligingly, but paused.

“You want me to come with you?” She asked, cocking her head to one side. Dean caught her eye.

“Who better?” He asked. “I’m down a partner, after all, and I kinda like your company.” He winked. Lory giggled.

“Sure.” She said, smiling.

****

Sam waited and watched as Gwen knelt on the ground with her hands in the leaves, trying to work out what they were trying to tell her. It was as though she could almost hear a voice.

“Anything?” Sam asked eventually when Gwen had gone a long time without talking. Gwen sighed and got to her feet.

“No. Whatever it was is gone.” She dusted herself down. “Sorry.”

“But you think something definitely happened.”

“Yeah.” Gwen was still lost in thought. “I wonder if anyone has gone missing.” She said it more to herself.

“Missing?” Sam frowned. “You think it’s that serious?”

Gwen met Sam’s eye and she nodded. “I know it is.”

“Has anyone gone missing?” Sam voiced allowed.

“If I knew that I could reach out further.” Gwen looked at the ground and crossed her arms. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry. You’ve maybe put us onto something, that’s all that matters.” Sam reached out to touch her arm and instantly regretted it. The notion was alien to them both. He retracted his arm just as quickly.

As if on cue to break the awkward contact Meredith suddenly appeared. She was jogging and wearing yoga gear to do so, and pulled her earphone out as she passed.

“Hey, you two.” She said. “Wasn’t expecting to run into you two.”

“Do you always jog this way?” Sam asked in instant investigation mode.

“Yeah.” Meredith said with a shrug, squinting in the light from the sunset. “What are you two doing?”

“Nothing.” Gwen said a bit too quickly.

“Well, now I’ve got you,” Meredith said, not buying Gwen’s lie for a moment but trying not to access her new found powers without control, “Lory asked me to tell you if I saw you: we’re having a Hallowe’en party on Friday.”

“Oh?” Gwen swallowed.

“Wondered if you wanted to come.” Meredith said. “No pressure, either of you, let us know.” She bid them a cheery farewell and jogged on again before she lost her pace.

Sam and Gwen exchanged looks.

“Are you gonna go?” Gwen asked.

“Dunno. Dean will probably drag me if it’s Lory.”

“Is something going on with them?” Gwen asked.

“More than something,” Sam smirked, “If they’d stop denying it.”

Gwen blushed and smiled sweetly at him, but she frowned and looked back at the ground.

“I’ll find out what happened.” Sam said gently. “I promise.”

Gwen just smiled at him. She wasn’t sure if he was just saying it, but it was comforting nonetheless.

****

Twenty-five minutes after leaving Lory’s house, after Dean had insisted on changing into a black suit and tie that made Lory’s heart skip a beat, and she had teased him with James Bond jokes, the Impala pulled up outside the crime-scene. Lory looked out the window at the uniform-clad police officers and suddenly felt way out of her depth. Dean cut the engine and turned to her, holding up an FBI badge. “Here’s the thing,” He said, “I’m Agent Cody Welton of the FBI, you are Linda, one of Cindy’s classmates.”

“Right,” Lory nodded to show she had received the information. She, however, had other ideas.

“You’re here to walk me through the scene if any of these clowns see us get out the car together.” He added, tucking the badge into his suit jacket and surveyed her up and down.

“What?” She asked, defensively, pulling her jacket tighter around herself.

“You’ll do,” He said, winking cheekily and opening his door. Lory smirked and waited until he had shut his drivers door. As it clicked shut, she quickly opened the glove compartment and, her heart hammering, pulled out on the FBI badges: Bailey Clarke, pulled out the card and folded it, and then slipped her student card in behind it. It looked acceptable, and she slid it into his inner jacket pocket just as Dean knocked on the window.

“You coming?” He asked, glancing around to make sure he wasn’t being watched. Lory smirked and checked her lipstick in the mirror. She paused momentarily to worry about her hair-colour, but decided it was passable, and climbed out of the car. She followed a few steps behind Dean as he strode confidently up to the Sheriff. She watched as he pulled out the badge, flashed it in front of the Sheriff, and then put it back into his jacket like it was nothing. Her heart was racing.

“Who’s the broad?” The Sheriff asked, accepting Dean’s story but nodding at Lory. Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Lory got there first, pushing gently passed Dean and holding out her hand. With her left, she slipped it into her jacket and pulled out her newly forged card.

“Bailey Clarke” Lory said confidently, “Junior Agent.” She flashed her badge and then slipped it back into her pocket.

Dean stared at her, open mouthed. Lory glanced at him with a look that read ‘play it cool’, before turning defiantly back to the agent. The Sheriff looked her up and down.

“Are you not a bit young?”

“The gift of youthful skin.” She said, smirking. “Moisturiser, Sheriff…” She glanced at his badge. “Holmes.” Dean was still staring at her, though he had recomposed his face as best he could. _What the Hell was she playing at?_ was his first thought, _Damn she’s good._ was his second. She had played a convincing counselor in Salem but this was pushing it. “Mind telling us what you know?” Lory continued confidently. The Sheriff seemed entirely taken in by her charms and he allowed them to duck under the police tape. Dean now walked a step behind Lory as she walked in step with the Sheriff in her black heels.

“Not much to tell, Agents,” Sheriff Holmes said, stopping at a scorch mark on the tarmac. “Last seen leaving a party at 3am, according to her friends, and walking down this section of path.” The Sheriff pointed at the scorch mark and Lory gracefully crouched down to observe it. Dean came to his senses and pulled his notebook out.

“Do you mind telling us the names of these friends?” Dean asked.

“We’ve already spoke to them.” Sheriff Holmes asked, distracted by Lory. Dean raised an eyebrow and bit his tongue, desperate not to break character and punch him into next week for leering at his… friend who was a girl.

“You’ve spoken to them.” Dean narrowed his eyes. “We haven’t. Routine.” Dean cleared his throat so the Sheriff was forced to look at him and not her. He gave his best convincing smile and the Sheriff cleared his own throat.

“Tammy Corville and Lance General.” The Sheriff said, as Dean wrote the names down. It was just as-well nobody was observing Lory at that point as her eyes widened with recognition. She blew past it and instead took the opportunity to lightly touch the scorch mark. Ash, but not enough to render disintegration. She emerged from the crouching position and dusted off her hands as Dean finished getting the addresses of the witnesses. She gave Dean a look and he accepted it discreetly - she knew something. He smiled at the Sheriff.

“Thanks, Sheriff Holmes.” He said, pocketing the notebook, “We’ll get back to you when we’ve investigated.” He stepped back to let Lory pass him. “Agent Clarke.” He said, his eyes dark as he looked at her. She stepped passed him, ignoring his expression, and smiled in thanks at the Sheriff. They walked quietly back to the car and Dean smiled and acknowledged the Sheriff as he climbed in. Lory was biting her thumb, waiting for the onslaught with a slight smirk on her face. As soon as the door was closed he turned to her incredulously.

“What are you playing at?” He hissed, starting the engine and pulling off and away. “You could have put the whole disguise in jeopardy.”

“I’m not a complete idiot, Dean.” Lory said, laughing, which infuriated him more.

“Why would you do that?”

“It looked like fun.” She said, shrugging and pulling out the badge.

“Fun?” Dean spat. He was so angry it made Lory giggle.

“Why should I have to play the little lady all the time? The damsel in distress? I’m every bit as powerful as you.” She asked. Dean didn’t have an answer. There was a long pause as Dean pulled up in a shady spot outside the accommodation. It would have been a short walk to the house, but Dean needed to have it out. “Calm down.” Lory said. “We got away with it, it’s fine.”

“What if he sees you around campus?”

“Sheriff Holmes is an imbecile.” Lory said. “Everyone in Iroquis knows that.”

“Don’t underestimate cops.” Dean said.

“Do you want to listen to what I found out or not?” Lory asked, changing the subject. Dean reeled and then resigned himself. He clenched the steering wheel and forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths.

“What?” He said, eventually.

“There was ash.” She said, holding up her fingers so Dean could see the grey smudge.

“Ash?” He asked, raising his eyebrow, his anger disappearing. “So do you think she was vaporized?”

“Not enough of it.” Lory said, looking at her own fingers.

“The cops could have moved it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Wind?”

Lory made a face of disagreement.

“No, I think more likely it’s…” She paused, glancing at Dean. He made a face that prompted her to continue. “It looks like a ritual.” She shrugged slightly. “That amount of ash could be used in a cleansing ritual.”

“So… witches?” Dean asked. Lory surveyed him carefully. Even after the time they had spent together, he still went to his ‘witches are bad’ factory setting.

“I don’t know.” She glanced out the window at the house. “Let’s talk to Tammy and Lance.”

“You know them?” Dean asked. Lory hesitated, then nodded.

“We’re in the same class.”

“Well,” Dean said, opening the door of the Impala, “Let’s hope they don’t rat you out to our Sheriff buddy.” Lory watched him exit the car with a sinking feeling in her stomach. It was fun whilst it lasted. She exited the vehicle and steeled herself for this conversation. As they reached the front gate she caught Dean’s arm.

“Maybe let me do the talking?” She suggested. Dean pursed his lips in the way he did when he didn’t get his way, but nodded.

“If you think that best.” He said, gesturing for her to go first. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. There was a short wait before Tammy appeared on the other-side of the screen - a petite girl in oversized clothing with short hair and tear tracks down her cheeks. She saw Lory through the screen and swallowed before opening it.

“Mal.” She said, “Hey.”

“Hi Tammy,” Lory said, “I’m really sorry to trouble you at a time like this.” She glanced over her shoulder at Dean. “This is Agent Welton. He’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“I’ve already spoken to the police.” Tammy said, her voice thick as she surveyed Dean warily.

“I’m sure, but Agent Welton is FBI. He’s going to do his best to find Cindy.” Lory’s voice was gentle and maternal. Tammy hesitated briefly before nodding and stepping aside to let them in. The hallway and living area were both an absolute state with cups and cans everywhere and what looked like the aftermath of a very good party. Lance - a tall, muscular and dark ex-jock, was sitting on the sofa as Lory entered, staring into space and looking pale.

“Hi Lance.” Lory said, sitting down opposite him.

“Mallory?” He asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m helping Agent Welton with the investigation. Student rep and all that... I was so sorry to hear Cindy is missing.” Lory said, gesturing at Dean as he sat beside her. Tammy sat warily beside Lance and Lance put a comforting arm around her thin shoulders. 

“Hi Tammy, Lance,” Dean said, rummaging in his jacket for his badge and notebook. “My name is Agent Welton and I’m going to do the best I can for Cindy.” His voice was gentle as he leant forward to show them his badge. They both accepted it. “First, can you tell me when you last saw Cindy?” He asked. Tammy burst into fresh tears as Lance wrapped his other arm around her.

“The night before last.” Lance replied, “Or, the morning.” He frowned. “About 3am.” He looked around at the mess. “We were having a Hallowe’en party,” He said, “And normally she’d stay over,” He glanced at Tammy, “But last night she said she wanted to head home because she had classes today.”

“I wish I’d persuaded her to stay.” Tammy sobbed. Lory reached out and took her hand across the gap.

“How did you know she’d take the path?” Dean asked.

“She always does.” Lance said, “It’s a shortcut.”

“And that she was missing?” Lory interjected without thinking. Dean side-glanced at her before continuing.

“She was on the phone.” Tammy said.

“To you?” Dean asked. Tammy nodded.

“She hates walking by herself.”

“Why’s that?”

“She just doesn’t feel safe.” Tammy said.

“And the phone just cut out?” Dean asked. Tammy nodded. “Did she say anything before it did?” Tammy shook her head.

“Just that it was foggy.” Tammy said. Dean frowned and made a note.

“Tammy,” Dean said, shifting his position, “Do you know of any enemies Cindy might have had?”

“Enemies?” Tammy asked, her voice cracking.

“Anyone who would want to do her harm.”

“No.” Tammy said. “Cindy was the loveliest person I’ve ever met.”

“Is.” Lance interjected. “We’re not in the past tense yet.” Tammy responded with a sob. Lory sighed and looked around the room.

“A Hallowe’en party?” She asked. “Did anyone leave when Cindy did?”

“Not that I noticed.” Tammy said, “And I said goodbye to her at the door.”

“You didn’t want to walk her home?” Dean asked. Tammy stared at him incredulously as Lory nudged him in the ribs for being tactless. He cleared his throat and checked his notebook. “I think that’s all for now.” He said, snapping it shut and getting to his feet. Lory followed suit.

“Let me know if you need anything,” She said, “Or if you think of anything that might be significant.” Tammy nodded and lost herself in fresh tears.

“We’ll see ourselves out.” Dean said, nodding at Lory to follow him. She did so, smiling gently at Tammy. Lance stood up and followed them, catching Lory’s arm in the hall just as Dean opened the front door. He turned round defensively.

“Mal,” Lance said, pulling his phone out. “Do you want to see the pictures from the party?” He asked, unlocking his phone and beginning to scroll. Lory raised an eyebrow.

“Do you think that’s significant?” She asked.

“There were hundreds of people here. Someone might have followed her.” Lance said, holding out his phone for Lory to see. She took it and zoomed in on each face.

“Do you mind sending me this?” Lory asked. Lance nodded.

“Sure,” He said, “Give me your number and I’ll send it.” He said. Lory reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a pen, but just as she was about to write her number on Lance’s hand, Dean snatched the pen and wrote his on a page in his notebook. He tore it out and handed it to Lance as Lory raised an eyebrow at him.

“Best send it to me, buddy.” Dean said, his lips pursed. Lory suppressed a smile by biting her lip as she watched jealousy rear its ugly head. Now didn’t seem the right time to bring it up, so she banked this to mention later on when there wasn’t a girl missing and they had actually discussed where this relationship was heading. If there was a relationship at all… Lory felt her face flush and combated it by nodding at Lance in acknowledgement, turning on her heel and leaving the premises. Dean gave Lance a look before following her out to the car. It was starting to get dark out. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened there either, but it didn’t seem the right time to mention it so he suppressed it. They drove in silence back to Lory’s house, the only sound being the gentle hum of the classic rock on the radio and the ping of a text on Dean’s phone - the photo.

Once safely in the privacy of Lory’s bedroom (Meredith was out at class, thankfully) Dean shrugged off his jacket and pulled out Lory’s desk chair, sitting on it and pulling out his notebook. Lory also shrugged off her jacket, kicked off her shoes and sat on the end of her bed, drawing her legs up to sit cross-legged, the only person ever to do such in a dignifying fashion in such a short skirt. She waited expectantly for Dean to start talking. The unspoken tension in the room was deafening.

“So?” She asked, when he failed to speak.

“So.” Dean said, looking up at her.

“Thoughts?” She prompted.

“I really don’t think this is anything to do with my line of work.” He said, flicking through his notes. “There’s no evidence here that there’s a demon at work at all.”

“So you think it’s just some psycho?” Lory asked.

“Maybe.” He said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, opening the party photo. “Like Lance said, there were hundreds of people in and out of that party. Anyone could have had a twisted fixation on Cindy.”

Lory knew his words had merit but she couldn’t shake that uncomfortable feeling in her stomach.

“What about the ash?” She asked, “Or the fog?”

“That’s the only evidence we have that it’s even slightly supernatural.” Dean said. He held his phone out to Lory. She took it and scrolled over the photo. “Do you recognise all of these faces?”

“I won’t know everyone,” She said, frowning, “I’m popular but I’m not that popular.”

“Does anyone look out of place?” He asked.

“Dean,” She said, raising an eyebrow, “They’re all in costume. They all look out of place.” She surveyed the photo carefully. There were Cindy and Tammy in the foreground, arms around each other. Tammy was dressed as a devil and Cindy was next to her in a very short black dress and pointed hat. Lory frowned at the costume choice but thought better than to mention it.

“I don’t know.” Dean said, turning to the dark sky out of the window. He sighed and got to his feet. “I should go.” He said, picking up his jacket. Lory stood up too, handing him his phone back and then folding her arms.

“Will you be here Friday night?” She asked.

“What’s Friday?” He asked, pausing.

“The Hallowe’en party?” She prompted, averting her gaze and suddenly feeling childish.

“Right.” Dean said. He shrugged his jacket on and stood awkwardly in front of her. “I’m not so sure, May.” He said. Lory frowned at him. She hadn’t been called May since she was a child. How did he know to do that? It felt like a sign.

Lory knew that’s what he’d say. She took a step towards him. “So, that moment in the hall?” She asked, twirling her hair around her fingers coyly. “What was that about?”

“What moment?” Dean asked, suddenly feeling hot under the collar. He didn’t think she would have noticed.

“Not wanting Lance to take my number?” Lory smiled. She noticed alright.

Dean shifted uncomfortably. “There was no moment.” He said, entirely untruthfully. Lory giggled, causing Dean to frown.

“You know he’s gay, right?” Lory asked, reaching up to brush a hair out of Dean’s face. No, he did not know that - and now he felt stupid. He caught her hand as she brought it down and entwined his fingers determinedly in-between hers.

“There was no moment.” He repeated, pulling her into him, suddenly fiery. He kissed her passionately on the lips as though that covered his moment of weakness. She kissed him back for a moment, before breaking away and batting her eyelashes at him.

“So, Friday?” She asked. Dean felt light-headed, the way she kissed was like nothing he had ever felt before. He blinked and nodded before he knew what he was saying.

“I’ll be there.” He promised.

“And Sam?” Lory asked, running her thumb over his cheekbone. Her eyes were bewitching. Dean nodded again. Lory giggled and stood on tiptoes to lean against him and kiss him lightly on the lips. “See you there, Kansas.” She said. Dean nodded for a third time. Lory stepped back from him, her thumbnail in her mouth. He cleared his throat and pocketed his phone, heading for the door.

“See you Massachusetts.” He said, winking as he exited.

“Call me if something else happens!” Lory called after him.

“You got it!” Dean called back. Lory sat back down on her bed and grinned to herself. Although neither of them admitted it, it was pretty clear where they both stood. Lory lay back on her bed and thought about the crazy life she now led. She had impersonated a Fed today… who else could say that? And she had convinced Dean Winchester to come to a Hallowe’en party. She should probably decide on a costume…

She fished in her pocket for her phone and dialed Gwen’s number. She answered on the fifth ring.

“Hello?” Gwen answered.

“Hey Gwen.” Lory said. “It’s Lory.”

“Yeah.” Gwen swallowed, “Hi Lory.” Lory felt bad for not reaching out sooner.

“I’ve been thinking. I’d like to get to know you better. Meredith talks about you a lot. So… are you free Friday night?”

“Friday night?” Gwen asked.

“Yeah, Hallowe’en?” Lory replied.

“Oh right,” Gwen said. “Yeah, yeah I am. Meredith mentioned you were having a party.”

“Yeah. Are you coming?”

“I think I might.” Gwen said, feeling brave with herself.

“Amazing! I want to hang out with you more. What costume are you going with?” Lory asked.

“I hadn’t really thought.” Gwen replied, and Lory could tell she was frowning.

“No pressure at all,” Lory said. There was a pause.

“Listen, Lory,” Gwen said. “It’s not a great time.”

“Is everything okay?” Lory asked, sitting up.

“Yeah,” Gwen said a bit too quickly. “Sorry.” And she hung up. Lory looked at her phone, frowning. What was going on today?

****

3am chimed on the campus clock and the creepy fog began to seep in over the pond. Kayleigh was sitting by it, nursing her twisted ankle as black mascara tears rolled down her green painted face. She pulled her pointed hat off her head and slumped it down beside her on the grass as she rubbed her ankle.

“Son of a whore.” She muttered to herself through tears. The fog was thick now, enveloping her in its arms. Kayleigh squinted into it, sure she could see a figure standing just on the side of the pond, metres away from her. “Hello?” She called. “Don’t just stand there, help me.” She spat. She attempted to get to her feet but couldn’t, and the hat fell into the pond. She swore and reached out to try and get it. It would be the last thing she ever did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know not a lot of people are reading this so I'll keep this note brief - thank you to those who are! This is really me just exploring ideas for a novel I want to write NOT about the Winchesters, but the Winchesters seem a great place to try out ideas: and to educate people on Paganism! 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me.


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